


Laughter Lines

by notenuffcaffeine



Series: The Parent Pack [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Argent family feels, Druid Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hale Family Feels, M/M, McCall Family Feels, POV Alternating, Pack Family, Stilinski Family Feels, fluff-a-palooza, i mentioned fluff right?, parent pack, post-season 3A-Au, schrodinger's sterek, stiles screwed up the druid thing, the parents are trouble magnets, the parents go back to high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:04:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 61,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenuffcaffeine/pseuds/notenuffcaffeine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn't know it would happen!" Stiles couldn't be more sincere in his distress over that.</p><p>"So fix this," said his dad.  Stiles rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Like I know how?" he said. He caught a glare from the unfamiliar and yet well known expression on his father's face and saw that Scott's mom joined in on it. "Come on. What are you going to do about it? Ground me? I'm older than you now."</p><p>"Stiles!" Melissa was not amused by the dig and her eyes flashed red.  Stiles dodged behind Derek when the werewolf walked back in the room.</p><p>"I don't know," spoke up Peter Hale.  He spent a lot of time finding reflective surfaces in the house.  "High school wasn't that bad of a trip. I could do it again."</p><p>"No," said Talia with her usual amount of authority.  She looked about as old as Casey now and much more obviously older than her brother.  "You will not do high school again."</p><p>Peter scoffed at her and rolled his eyes.  "Whatever.  Anybody wanna play poker?"</p><p>... or ...</p><p>Parent pack 'verse.  A misfired Druid-spell makes the parents into teenagers again and the *actual* teenagers have to corral their own midget parents as they figure out how to reverse it... before the packs lose everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Parent Pack is back! Yeah, I know, I keep saying I'm not gonna do another one and then another one happens. I'm never saying it again, promise...
> 
> Once again, the fault of chi1013 and HilaryParker54. I was writing this fluff-a-palooza for them and then the angst-fest of Borderlines happened. Now I'm back on this one. And seriously, this is like cotton candy fluff compared to the rest of the set. 
> 
> Once again, posting as a WIP, but you guys know how I work by now, right? This puppy's 75% done as of right now. At least weekly posting schedule.
> 
> \---

There was a party in progress and the idiot who was supposed to blow out the candles was late. It wasn't normal for Stiles to be late to his own social engagements. He didn't have them often enough to forget them. Scott was a little worried.

"If he was in a hurry, he could be in a ditch. Statistics-"

"His dad is the sheriff," said Derek, interrupting Scott's second effort to get him to help look for their wayward Druid-in-training. "If he was in a ditch, Casey would know it by now. We would know it by now."

"But he's half an hour late and not answering his phone," said Scott. Derek stared at him.

"You're more worried about him than I am. Think about this for a second, Scott," he said, calm and annoying for it. "I get it, he's the only member of your pack you can't pull up on AlphaGPS. But I'm telling you he's fine."

"Your thing should come with GPS," grumped Scott. He perked up when he heard the jeep turn onto the street. Derek started for the front and Scott raced him. They got to the door at the same time but Scott pulled rank because it was his house and alpha-red came with privileges like cutting in line.

They were on the porch in time to see Stiles drop from the jeep in his usual clumsy stagger. Nothing wrong there. He had his pack over his shoulder and headed for the house, distracted by his hurry.

"Dude," said Scott. Stiles startled and looked up at them. The Druid wasn't expecting to see two wolves staring down at him from the porch steps. "You're late."

"Yeah, man, but I was busy. I gotta show you this," said Stiles. Surprise passed, Stiles shoved between the two movable walls. Scott still scowled at him, Derek smirked like he had only come out onto the porch to watch Scott harass Stiles, and Stiles was too preoccupied to catch on. He bribed Derek with a hello smooch, his eyes flashing their brief blue around the amber, and then moved him out of the way while he was at it. Scott smacked him in the shoulder for unfair advantage.

"You didn't even answer your phone," Scott complained at him. Stiles nodded and pulled the offensive object out of his pocket. He handed it to Scott and headed into the house.

"It was muted! Deaton's rules," said Stiles. "You gotta see this thing he taught me. It's awesome! Totally worth you being pissed at me."

It was obvious that Stiles was too distracted to be hassled by alphas so Scott just followed. Stiles dumped the backpack on their way through the kitchen and took them out to the backyard. Which is where the pack waited. Stiles came up short at the unexpected chorus of "Happy Birthday!" from various places around the McCall's backyard. He stopped and stared. And sniffed at the BBQ and eyed the cake not far from it. Scott grinned, silently gloating as he realized they had actually managed a surprise party, even though Stiles had known about it.

"Crap," said Stiles, still looking dazed. Derek frowned over at him.

"What?" he asked. Stiles looked over at him and then at Scott and shrugged.

"I just... Nobody ever actually shows up to my stuff. We're together all the time anyway. I just figured..."

"Shut up, Stiles." Scott shoved his shoulder to get him off the porch and away from the stupid everybody-hates-Stiles paranoia. He was promptly collected by both Allison and Lydia, with a kiss on each cheek, and steered toward the food table. Burgers and hot dogs and chicken and steakhouse fries and potato salad and deviled eggs and cupcakes and an actual cake that he said looked suspiciously like Scott had made it, because Scott had actually made it. The whole top of it was covered in candles that formed the number "18" and promised to take forever to blow out. Some of the candles were sparklers. Scott was quite proud of the fact that Stiles would never get those candles out without cheating.

That’s when Stiles seemed to snap out of his surprise enough to realize he had a captive audience comprised of the two McCall packs. His hyperactive attention span snapped right back to the track he had been on when he got out of the jeep. He set down his food-piled plate and waved for attention.

The birthday party was more like a pack-party and the packs had splintered off into their usual groups. Scott's mom's pack of parents, plus Peter, had taken over the porch, and Scott’s larger group had paired off and meandered around the yard with their food. Isaac was failing at kicking the twins' asses at basketball on the hoop mounted on the side of the house, even though he had the height advantage, so he kicked the ball at Stiles and took the excuse to bail. Danny was tending the BBQ so he didn't wander too far, and Mel, Casey, Talia, Peter and Chris stayed on the porch for whatever Stiles' grand magic trick was supposed to be. That left the basketball trio, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Cora and Derek crowded around Stiles not far from the porch.

Stiles stood by the wisteria vine that crawled the trellis up over the back porch. It was actually a dead vine that Scott's mom had asked him to dig out and pull down but he had never gotten around to it. And since it was partly his fault the thing was dead, Melissa was adamant that Scott be the one to do that chore... whenever he got around to it. Scott wondered hopefully if Stiles had learned a druid shortcut for pulling the vines.

"Okay, so this-" Stiles paused in his announcement to tug at the thick, wood-like vine. "-used to be a really cool plant-tree-thing. Thick and shady and smelled like that one perfume Lydia had in junior high-"

Even though Lydia and Aiden had cooled off a little since Scott had taken them on, Aiden still glowered at Stiles for the over-share. Derek rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and kept quiet. Lydia, however, gave a polite cough.

"Creepy, much?" she said quietly. Stiles shrugged them off.

"You did. Wisteria. Kinda like lavender but softer. It was fragrant and memory relies on the senses and that one got stuck. And if this is my party, I can get nostalgic all I want," he said.

"That's not how the song goes," said Allison, smirking at the theatrics.

"Story of my life, right there," said Stiles. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the dead tree. "So Scott and I killed this thing like two years ago. We accidentally dumped over this bucket of soapy water that was supposed to have gone on the car instead. And it kinda poisoned it and killed it."

"Fascinating," said Ethan dryly.

"If you kids can't be nice to each other, nobody gets cake," interrupted Melissa from the porch behind the plant trellis. "No way am I hanging out around _cranky_ teenagers on a sugar high."

Stiles gloated, waited for further interruption, and then carried on. "The point is, this thing is mostly dead. We can all agree to accept this as fact?" At the bob of heads all around, Stiles stepped away from the vine and shooed the others back a few steps. "So check this out then... I can rewind it. Make it young instead of dead."

Without further fanfare, Stiles held his hand out toward the vines and looked to be concentrating. He muttered under his breath but it sounded more like self-coaching than anything specific to a spell. Gradually, little sprigs of green showed up on the old vines, starting low and climbing higher.

There was an oath from the porch and Casey Stilinski stood up from his cozy chair in the shade to get closer and confirm that his eyes weren't playing tricks. Just like everyone else had done, crowding closer to Stiles to see better that it really was something their friend was causing.

"Dude. That is amazing!" Scott said. It was the most intelligent thing he could manage. He was thoroughly engrossed in watching little bead-like blooms sprout from one of the new green tendrils of vine on the trellis. Isaac shoved closer and Scott tried to accommodate without cramming into Allison.

His chivalry met with disastrous results.

Scott tripped on the basketball that Isaac had kicked earlier and went sprawling. Right into Stiles. The Druid-in-training lost all concentration and control and flailed to the ground along with Scott.

"Graceful," coughed Stiles, shoving at the heavy werewolf that had landed on his chest.

"Sorry..." And Scott really was, too. He frowned at his friend, accidentally using the puppy-face. "I didn't mean to screw it up, man. That was seriously awesome."

"It's okay," said Stiles. They helped each other up and he pointed to the now green and purple splattered trellis covering the porch. "It got the hint without me."

"And now I don't have to yank those vines out," said Scott, grinning.

"Uh... Stiles. You need to un-do the trick," came Scott's mom's voice from behind the trellis.

"Now," added Stilinski and Chris Argent at the same time.

"Aww come on! That was serious brilliance!" Stiles looked annoyed and worried and scrubbed at the side of his head. "Plus I don't know how to undo it. Killing things is _dark_ and I am going _nowhere_ near that shi-stuff."

"You damn well better figure out how to undo it," said Casey. He appeared at the porch steps then. Except instead of looking like himself, he looked younger. Stiles’ dad looked Derek's age. Fewer laugh lines, darker hair with no gray and no handfuls of it torn out. His clothes didn't even fit him. Incidentally, he looked pissed off. Scott's jaw dropped as his mom stepped out into view. She looked _his_ age.

"Ohmygod..." Stiles was somewhere between a panic attack and a fainting fit and Scott would have probably laughed if he wasn't already severely freaked out by seeing the younger versions of Talia Hale, Peter Hale and Chris Argent show up behind his now-17 year old mom.

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

It was not the most popular party trick. The twins and Danny had never really been all that friendly with Stiles and now, suddenly, he was a threat. They quickly remembered other places that they needed to be that afternoon before the fledgling Druid turned them into bouncing ferrets or something. Isaac wasn't far from joining them but it was kind of his fault too, him and that stupid basketball that had tripped Scott. And besides that, he lived with the McCalls and had no place else to run to. Even if it wasn’t her pack’s problem, Lydia didn't run because it had hit her best friend's dad, and she had full confidence that Stiles wouldn't be stupid enough to shrink her because, well, she would kill him and put him out of his misery first. But the whole party vibe had definitely died.

Derek and Cora and Lydia brought the food in from outside as a more constructive waste of time while Scott and Allison and Stiles worried over their parents. Stiles paced the dining room, trying to figure out what to do as they waited for Deaton to show up. Scott spent most of his time trying not to stare and Allison stayed quiet but it had obviously thrown her for a loop too. All of the kids were afraid to get too close to their parents. Everything was too weird.

"That- I didn't know that could happen," Stiles said for what had to be the hundredth time. "I just wanted to fix the stupid plant."

"Well, magic has side effects," said Casey Stilinski. His younger self didn't pull off the patiently-annoyed-parent voice as easy as he normally could. "What's that thing witches have about threes? Anything you do comes back three times..."

"It better not apply here because 18 doesn't divide by three into the double digits and I do not want to go back to elementary school this close to graduation," said Stiles quickly.

"We all graduated years ago," argued a too young Chris Argent. "You think we're happy about this?"

"I didn't know it would happen!" Stiles couldn't be more sincere in his distress over that.

"So fix this," said his dad. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Like I know how?" he said. He caught a glare from the unfamiliar and yet well known expression on his father's face and saw that Scott's mom joined in on it. "Come on. What are you going to do about it? Ground me? I'm older than you now."

"Stiles!" Melissa was not amused by the dig and her eyes flashed red. Stiles dodged behind Derek when the werewolf walked back in the room.

"I don't know," spoke up Peter Hale. He spent a lot of time finding reflective surfaces in the house. "High school wasn't that bad of a trip. I could do it again."

"No," said Talia with her usual amount of authority. She looked about as old as Casey now and much more obviously older than her brother. "You will not do high school again."

Peter scoffed at her and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Anybody wanna play poker?"

"Ohmygod," muttered Stiles. Still crouched and blatantly hiding behind Derek, he lightly pounded his head against Derek's shoulder. "Somebody shoot me."

"Nope," said Casey. "Not until you fix this. After that, maybe."

 

***

 

"I'm afraid I don't have good news," said Deaton. He was reluctant to speak up but there was still a certain fascination on his face. Talia crossed her arms and openly glared at the helpful emissary.

"I'm afraid that is entirely the wrong answer and I want you to think about it very carefully before you commit to it," she said. Deaton looked over at her, surprised and suddenly amused.

"I had forgotten how you could get," he admitted.

"Alan!" Talia was not amused.

"Apparently you did too," he said, moving cautiously to put the table more directly between them. "The fact remains that there is literally nothing to be done for this. The best I can do is hold off the regression. But the genetic memory has been reversed, Talia. Your cells do not remember the age they held before; that's the spell. There's no way to replicate that pattern. It has to find it on it's own. Again. Naturally."  
The protest was instantaneous from multiple voices at once.

"What?!"

"You mean we're stuck like this?"

"I haven't looked like this since I was sixteen years old, Alan!"

"Why would you teach me _this_?" Stiles was somehow more traumatized than the former adults and his shocky question quieted their protests.

"Because you are obviously capable of it," said Deaton carefully. "Perhaps your judgement wasn't the best but you have the strength to harness and learning is the only way you'll ever control it. And now you know there are consequences."

Stiles balked, staring at his teacher with his jaw hung slack. "Jeezus, ever heard of training wheels?"

"I taught you to save _plants_ , Stiles,” said Deaton, shaking his head. “I didn't think you would accidentally conduct human experiments."

"I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, we get it." Stilinski looked pained to have to hear it again and shook his head, waved off the new round of apology. He looked to Deaton. "Okay, so is there a way to accelerate it at all?"

"Possibly?" said Deaton. He shrugged and pulled an unsettled expression. "But I'm not certain there's a way to halt that acceleration once it's started. It would be better to let it run the course naturally than to accidentally deprive you of years of your lives trying to reverse it. Magic isn't a science."

Stilinski looked to his son, the age difference disturbing enough that Stiles blinked at him and had to work hard to focus on a face he had only seen in photo albums before. It was nothing but surreal and Stiles stayed not so subtly tucked behind Derek’s shoulder rather than actually deal with making it make sense in his head. And then his dad did that thing that was so his dad, the combined look and pointing finger that caught his attention because it meant business.

“You are grounded until I am at least forty years old. Again.”

Trying to mitigate at least a little, Deaton offered up, “We just don’t know if that will be twenty years or twenty days. He’s new at this. It could... go away. Maybe it won’t stick.”

“Or maybe it will,” added Derek. Stiles punched him in the arm for being anti-helpful.

“Yes, maybe. So maybe, for now, be cautious. Don’t do anything stupid with this,” said Deaton, looking to Stiles. “Don’t try to fix this. Anything you do, or I do, or they do, could follow them around a long time.”

Stiles gaped, mildly angry. “Are you kidding? After how epic a screw up I made trying to un-kill a plant, I’m fairly certain I can’t fix this one.”  
It was either the bitter tone Stiles spoke with or the stubbornly offended look on his face, but something made Lydia stand up and take note. She seemed mildly defensive on Stiles' behalf. "To be fair, you did fine. Scott and Isaac's rough-housing is what caused the problem."

"We weren't rough-housing," said Scott automatically. Lydia leveled a glare at them.

"Okay, maybe a little," said Isaac.

"So it was a group effort," allowed Melissa, cutting off something that likely would have been self-disparaging from Stiles. "And you two are on kitchen detail, together, until I'm back to thir-"

"A lovely twenty-nine once again," cut in Peter helpfully. Melissa laughed and then caught her reflection in the window and had to think about it.

"Okay, we can go with twenty-nine," she said.

"Dude, I was ten years old on your twenty-ninth-" Scott's confused clarification got his foot stomped on by an Isaac trying desperately to look innocent. "Right. Twenty nine."

Stiles did the math out loud and realized he was grounded for roughly twenty years while the other two got somewhere under fifteen years for their involvement. "No, seriously, this is the worst birthday ever."

 

***

 

Genetically underaged or not, alcohol was consumed that night. Why? Because none of the former adults matched their drivers’ licenses and none of them could get themselves home legally. It was as good an excuse as any to raid Melissa’s limited bar-selection, and when matched up with the fact that none of them looked like their drivers’ licenses because they all looked at least twenty years younger, there was absolutely no reason not to. Their adult-selves could not be arrested for providing alcohol to their under-aged selves. And the Beacon Hills Sheriff himself was currently too underaged to arrest anybody. Although his son was high on his list of potential future delinquents bound for lock-up, that threat died quickly when someone pointed out that Stiles was eighteen now and a few years parental regression wasn’t really worth a permanent record, was it? So the actual teenagers kept clear of the newly-regressed teenagers and Stiles, Scott and Isaac were very, _very_ quiet.

“What are we supposed to do with this?” Stilinski asked aloud for easily the tenth time in as many minutes. He was a terribly cheap drunk and had just enough of a buzz going that he seemed to be stuck on a loop. Melissa frowned at him and stroked the man’s hair back to trace her hand down his jaw. She could probably think of a few things she could get used to with the new look.

“I don’t know, Koz,” she admitted. “But I guess a do-over isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’m a sheriff,” he reminded her. “ _The_ sheriff. People will actually notice when I’m gone. Especially the new guy. He’s... just ridiculous. Arrogant little twit. Good kid. But sharp. Won’t slip past him on this.”

“Won’t slip past anyone,” said Talia. She currently babysat the Tennessee Walker and was very stingy about sharing it. “None of us can get away with showing our faces right now. No one will believe it’s us.”

“Speak for yourselves,” chimed in Peter. “My boyish good looks have never faded.”

“Your charm still needs work,” muttered Chris.

“There is no one I work with who will let me clock in and be around patients like this,” said Melissa. She shook her head. “So yeah. We’ve got a big problem here. But I don’t know what to do about it other than call out sick for as long as humanly possible.”

“Which is, what? Three days?” asked Stilinski. “After that they start wanting proof of life, or proof of life-threatening-illness.”

“Luckily I can come up with a couple of those to lie about,” Melissa replied. At least Talia thought it was funny. Stilinski lightly pounded his head on his crossed arms on the kitchen table and Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and stole the bottle from Talia. Peter was slightly preoccupied with his nails. All of them jumped when, in the quiet of the room, Stilinski’s cellphone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the ID, and immediately tossed it on the table like a hot coal.

“What do I do?” he asked. “What the hell do I tell them?”

“Who?” asked Chris, the hunter - however young and inexperienced he looked currently - showing caution and dread. Stilinski waved to the phone.

“My job. The sharp new kid Parrish. The rest of the miniscule department. I don’t know how to tell them they’re down one man _but don’t worry about it because he’ll be back in roughly twenty years.._.”

The phone rang again. Melissa snatched it up before the sheriff could, put it on speaker to stall for time and brilliant ideas.

"Sheriff Stilinski's phone," she greeted. Peter actually giggled, then clapped a hand over his own mouth to draw it back. Mel ignored him, too otherwise focused on the good Deputy Parrish asking in polite surprise where Stilinski was.

"He can't come to the phone right now..."

"Why not?"

"He's indisposed..." Mel started mentally flailing.

"...indisposed by what?" asked Parrish. At the last possible stall-out, Mel hesitated.

"Chicken pox," she blurted.

"Chick-" Stilinski's protest was quieted by Talia's hand over his mouth.

"Chicken pox?" Parrish asked. "He was fine yesterday..."

"That's kind of how it works, yeah," said Mel. "So he won't be in for a few days. At his age, it can get really bad, really easily. We can't mess around with this..."

"Who is this?"

Melissa’s initial reaction was annoyance; how many times had she talked to Parrish over the last month alone? But then she realized that she didn’t exactly sound like herself at the moment. The woman cringed. "Melissa McCall. Don't worry, I'm a nurse..."

"So you're taking care of him?" asked Parrish. "I could call the hospital about getting him checked in-"

"Not necessary at this point. I'm keeping an eye on him." Currently from his lap, but that was thankfully not something Parrish could tell over the phone. They would be in trouble if the deputy used FaceTime. He seemed to accept the answer and, after passing along the request that the sheriff call the station as soon as he was able to clear up a slight snafu on some paperwork, Parrish hung up.

"Chicken pox!" The sheriff was still floored by his fake illness. "I had that when I was nine!"

"So? It's genius," said Peter. "It won't be on your health record with the station, it won't require hospitalization, and given your age-" Peter's smug tone didn't waver from the glare Stilinski aimed at him. "It will take a week or so to go away... The lovely lady bought you time."

"I'll call my office and let them know I've got it too," said Talia. "And when it gets around that the three of us are down with it, no one will think twice."

"Well, maybe they will about the kinky little triangle you've apparently got going that you're all sick at once," said Peter wryly. He was young again and completely impervious to their glares.

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I just posted two days ago. This is me trying to make myself write anything at all by playing in words already written. Yay two-chapter bonus! 
> 
> _____

"Practice is the last place I should be right now, dude," complained Stiles. It was the summer time. Practice was entirely voluntary since school didn’t start up for a few more weeks. Try outs were still a month away. And, junior or not, Stiles would be riding the bench again anyway. "I just turned our parents into midgets yesterday. What if I zap somebody or turn Coach into an actual cupcake or something?"

Scott looked at him, obviously considering their options. "Dude. Can you do that?"

It got him hit in the shoulder with a lacrosse stick and Scott broke out snickering.

"It's three hours out of your life," pointed out Derek. "If I can park my ass on the bench to watch then you can go not-spark anybody who flattens you on the field. Good practice."

Stiles stared at him, obviously not touched by the vote of confidence. "Have I told you lately how much I hate you?"

Derek gave him a winning smile in return. He sat down on the bench and made himself comfortable, then pointed out at the field when Stiles still only glared. "Go."

Scott smirked at him and backed it up by pulling on Stiles' jersey and towing him out onto the field.

 

***

 

The problem for adults who had no immediate access to transportation was that they forgot about the natural methods of getting places, such as walking. Their kids stole the car keys and anyone who thought they wouldn’t take full advantage of effectively grounding their parents was an idiot. Their parents didn't actually argue.

Chris managed to get some work done on his own, taking over Melissa’s dining room and spending the morning on the phone. Talia kept him company, going through some law books online on a borrowed laptop as Chris negotiated prices. Peter had satellite TV to keep him entertained and nobody really wanted to know where Casey and Mel were. From what Talia had heard earlier that morning, he had a bit of a hangover going. She felt sorry for the sheriff’s apparently genetically-inclined low tolerance but at the same time it was amusing to a werewolf with the exact opposite problem.

By noon, Talia's attention span had been exhausted and Chris actually complained that he was bored. They hunted up food from the kitchen - for themselves - and went to poke around the TV for something a little less taxing for awhile. Stretched out and comfortable, Peter refused to give up the couch or the TV remote. Chris sat on the sofa to watch whatever was on and Talia took the other side of the two-seater.

"Anybody heard from Melissa and Casey?" Chris asked. "We're sure they're alive, right?"

"Oh, they're alive," said Peter. He waved to the TV. "Why do you think the volume is up?"

Chris balked and looked to Talia as though he didn't believe Peter. She shrugged.

"Being younger has some perks for the paired-up," she said. "And that is all I'm saying on the matter."

It seemed to settle Argent right down and he clung to a pillow to wave off having asked.

“I’m glad it’s in a bedroom,” said Peter, dismissive of the topic but fully willing to engage anyway. “The McCall-Stilinski contingent is in self-exile to their little love-nest and that’s about all I can handle. I really don’t want to consider how many times this couch has been-”

Ever the polite one, Talia interrupted him. “I swear. If you don’t shut your mouth, Peter-”

“I might look a little different but I still have three weapons stashed in this house and no one will complain if I put you down,” said Chris. He was completely serious and Talia looked over at him with an arched eyebrow. Chris shrugged. “Am I wrong?”

Talia grinned at him and then looked over at her brother. “No.”

Muting the television to more properly deal with the taunt, Peter narrowed his eyes at her. “Now just a minute. Just because you _look_ like you’re twenty all over again doesn’t mean you actually are. And I will not tolerate a return to the years when you made me drag your kids around and babysit and do your chores for you. And don’t even think about getting me anywhere near bodies of water large enough to shove my head in or snapping at me with towels or good god do not even think about hitting me with your car again. We are adults now. Adults do not behave that way. This includes not having your boyfriend shoot me for your entertainment.”

His effort at laying down the law amused Talia until the last and then she sobered. “Boyfriend?”

Chris looked just as uncomfortable. “Entertainment value has absolutely nothing to do with why I want to shoot you.”

Peter sat up suddenly, the barely-sixteen-year-old face staring at them wide-eyed. “Are you kidding me? Are you really going to pretend that the rest of us have not had to deal with the both of you dancing around for the past six months?”

The two on the sofa exchanged a confused glance. “We’re not dating.”

“So? We heard that line from my nephew and I still came home to scenes I never, ever, ever wanted to see in my lifetime,” said Peter.

“And those are not scenes you will see repeated in this living room,” said Talia, motioning to the room and decidedly not looking anywhere near Chris. But Peter had sensed weakness. Goddamn wolves. There were few options to avoid the awkward that her little brother was trying to force and Talia didn’t want to admit how close she was to letting Chris shoot him in painful places. She looked to Chris, hoping for back-up; he usually caught on quick. “Right?”

“Your brother is an idiot,” he said and she knew Chris was being completely honest. Talia nodded and turned her attention back to convincing Peter that he was an idiot with a short life-expectancy.

“It’s fine. If we _were_ something you had to worry about, the two of us couldn’t share a couch,” she said. To make her point clear, she scooted over on the couch just enough to share Chris’ space. He put his arm across the back of the sofa and welcomed her in. Talia’s argument stalled out as she realized her brother was much better at annoying people than she was. “Especially now, if we’re this much younger, with the hormones? It would be problematic. Hands would be involved. You and I could not be having this conversation because I would be otherwise occupied...”

“Please, Talia. You are talking to the master,” Peter said, amused by their efforts. “You can’t play chicken with me. I started this to get the two of you out of the room. I promise you I can handle the mental imagery better than either of you.”

“Mental images?” echoed Talia. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward over her knees to match her brother’s seated fighting stance. “Mental images are _all_ you have, and that’s disturbing on so many levels, little brother mine.”

“Not if it gets me the room again,” Peter replied. He smiled in challenge. “Because I do not want to run the risk - very real risk - of watching the two of you get it on like rabbits. If I want to watch Discovery Channel, I’ll watch it with a perky British narrative to keep things from getting awkward.”

"You excel at awkward, Peter," began Talia. She quieted when Chris set a hand to her back, looked over at him. Chris Argent and his carefully trained expression watched her, somewhere between annoyed and bored.

"I'm not comfortable with your brother making mental images involving my face," said Chris.

"I would like to avoid that if possible also, but for godsakes it isn't his TV," said Talia. Chris sat up to meet her, the both of them leaned over their knees. He didn't look like the Chris she was used to, too young, but he still smelled like himself, in all other ways felt like the presence she was otherwise used to from Chris. And suddenly face to face with the younger version, Talia still saw Chris' eyes. She swallowed back the comfortable feeling and sat a little straighter.

"It's not his house," she said, making herself continue her defense of their reputations. It was slightly difficult and she reverted to an ancient fall-back. "My little brother doesn't tell me what to do."

Chris smiled at her, still way too close, and that _really was not fair and he was old enough that he had to know exactly what he was doing and_ \- Talia suddenly stopped thinking. She smiled back. Chris _did_ know what he was doing. And he met Talia halfway to the kiss that left her brother swearing at them to knock it off. They didn't. Because Talia didn't get bossed around by her little brother, especially when he looked pint-sized and easily shoved in a boot locker or something.

It took about three minutes for Peter to catch on that he was being ignored as the last thing that Talia or Chris gave any consideration to. Neither one of them looked up when he slammed out of the house. It was a good hour before they bothered paying attention to their surroundings at all.

 

***

 

The varsity training session was as chaotic as anything else Finstock had ever come up with. When Scott and Stiles and Isaac weren't running the trail, two of them were practicing passes and their third was on the bench. Finstock said that took practice too, since Stilinski had a hard time sitting there for an entire game without disappearing. The coach was adle-brained and remembered the stupidest things, Derek decided. He sat in the bleachers behind Stiles and they pretended not to snark at each other when Finstock remembered to check on him. When Lydia and Allison showed up, pretense disappeared and Stiles' bench became suddenly crowded.

"What the he- hey, if you guys get me kicked off the team before the season has even started I'll be stuck in the stands waving embarrassing signs and nobody actually wants that," said Stiles. Allison shrugged.

"If he kicks you off the team, I'll show him my knife collection and see if he changes his mind," she said.

Stiles stared at her. "Wow, threatening violent action in defense of the bench warmer. Okay..."

"Don't do that," added Derek, attention on the field like he was bored and imparting some kind of idle secret.

"You're not the benchwarmer, Stiles. Coach is just... being himself," said Lydia. "Just sit there and appreciate the fact that I am sitting here with you to help your social status."

Stiles let out a soft bark of amusement. "My social status is fine," he replied. "Which one of us has the older, rich boyfriend?"

Considering it was Lydia being taunted - Stiles' Lydia-who-accessorized-with-a-fifteen-year-plan - Derek leaned into Stiles' shoulder to offer back-up to the jab. Stiles glanced over at him for a casual kiss to really sell it. Lydia rolled her eyes at them, impervious.

"Sweetie, I set my sights higher long before you set foot on the field," she reminded them.

"Oh, he knows," said Derek, still mostly distracted by the scrimmage on the field. Stiles elbowed him in the ribs for it and Derek just smirked. He tuned them out as they started talking about the parents. That was a topic he still didn't know what to do with. He had finally gotten used to having his mother around at all and now, suddenly, she looked unrecognizable. She looked a lot like Laura, too, which bothered Derek more than anything else. He had lived through a very weird year and he wasn't very good at processing it. The lacrosse game was of more immediate interest to him than the magic his mom had gotten whammied with; Derek at least knew the rules for lacrosse.

Someone stepped up to the end of the bench and cast a shadow and Derek looked over to see who it was. It took him a minute to recognize the teenage version of his uncle's face.

"What are you doing here?" Derek blurted out.

"Hiding from your mother," grumped Peter. "I hated her as a teenager before she knew better. Now I loathe her."

"Good," said Derek.

"Yep, that's healthy," added Stiles. Peter glared at him.

"You don't talk," he said with surprising authority. Stiles rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to ignore the order but there was a sudden sharp whistle blow and the coach shouted at him to stop gossiping and get in the game. Derek's half-formed idea to take himself for a run to get away from his shrunken midget uncle disappeared then; Stiles playing meant Stiles could either get hurt or hurt someone and Derek would rather either potential outcome happen under his supervision. Peter took the spot between Derek and Lydia once it had been vacated. Lydia glared openly at him, the red headed banshee looking capable of sprouting claws if Peter looked at her wrong. Just because he was pack didn't mean anyone had changed their minds about him. Derek watched his uncle expectantly.

"So? Why are you here?" he asked. Peter looked over at Derek, fully serious.

"I need you to go raid the liquor store on my behalf."

"No." That was easy. Derek's attention went back to the game.

"Come on! I tried showing him my ID, I already tried to play by the rules," said Peter. Derek lifted an eyebrow and looked over at him. Peter scowled. "He laughed at me and told me to leave before he called the cops."

"I like his answer," said Lydia. "You're not a student. You should leave before someone here calls the cops."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Please. I look more like I belong here now than Derek does. Which one of us is the pedo now, huh?"

"Still you," said Allison. "Because we know better."

Peter sighed. "Look, I just came here to get away from the orgy back at Melissa's, okay? A little understanding would be nice."

At that, Derek and Allison looked over at each other. It was suddenly awkward because they knew two members of this supposed orgy. Talia and Chris had been shoving their families together a lot but it had all been under the guise of pack and supposedly to try to fix the rift between Argents and Hales. But there was a line their parents hadn't crossed yet. Making out at the McCall's definitely moved past it.

"Are you serious?" Derek asked. Peter looked wounded.

"When do I lie?"

Allison stood up and pulled out her phone. The call was noticed and Peter pointed. "See? See why you should go put booze in the house if we're stuck there?"

"No. They're adults-"

"I would argue they're not in their right mind," said Peter.

"Hormones," huffed Lydia. "It's about time."

Derek cut a glare at Lydia. She shrugged and waved it off. "There are some people who are too pretty to doom themselves to celibacy. If they want to take advantage of more energy and an on-fire sex-drive, that's their business."

Peter looked over at her, bland expression replaced with curiosity. "Well when you put it that way, now I am feeling very left out of this magic trick."

The look Lydia gave him then could have frozen hell. "No."

Derek grinned as his uncle rolled his eyes and went back to pouting.

 

***

 

After practice, Scott ran off to pick up Cora from her summer job (Stiles still didn't know how sourwolf's cranky sister got a job at an _ice cream shoppe_ of the variety that spelled shop with an _E_ at the end) and Isaac and Allison went shopping because the party had cleaned Melissa's pantry out and there was nothing but cake left. And even that, not much. Poor Derek was stuck driving his uncle to the loft and Lydia told them she had a book club of all things.

Stiles was happy to note that the accidental pairings of the assignments were just that: accidents. The pairs were all back to pack, back to just-friends. They had all had their flings and kind of imploded for awhile after somebody had the really bad idea of a group-date for Valentines day. Scott and Isaac started a food fight in the restaurant and Stiles had a few hundred commemorative photos of the incident. They were barred from Beacon Hills' one nice restaurant for life but at least they had stopped short of a lawsuit. Stiles and Derek were the only couple to come out of the incident still together. Allison and Cora had apparently decided that dating within the pack wasn't as bad an idea as just dating 17 year olds in general turned out to be. Cora mentioned switching teams since it seemed to be working for her brother, but by March she was going with a guy from her English class.

Danny and Ethan had their thing. Lydia had her distractions and occasionally Aiden worked his way into the line-up but he inevitably always screwed that up. He was a jerk and Lydia called bullshit when she saw it and Aiden hadn't figured out yet how badly he wanted to change for it. There were some days that Stiles actually missed Jackson.

Still, Stiles tumbled out of the jeep at the McCall place, backpack over his shoulder and phone in hand as he flicked through Valentines day pictures on his phone just for the trip down memory lane. As he walked through the front door, he set his new background image to a picture of Allison shoving a handful of gravy and mashed potatoes in Scott's face.

In the living room, he crashed onto the couch in front of the TV, still paying attention to the phone. It dawned on him then that the house was really quiet considering it was supposed to have been a refuge for adults who were too kid-faced to be seen in public. Why wasn't the TV on? Why wasn't someone moving around in the kitchen? If his dad was there, why didn't the house smell like coffee?

Stiles looked up from his phone and checked the room he was in. And then let out an alarmed shout as he saw two sleeping bodies taking up the sofa. They were under a blanket but there were very definitely shirts on the back of the sofa and ohmygod there was a shirt on the coffee table. Stiles stared in slack-jawed shock as a couple of teen-aged parents woke up and stared back at him. It was only mildly comforting to finally recognize Chris and Talia and not his dad or Melissa. Swearing happened from all parties and Stiles finally had the brilliant idea to make himself scarce.

"Sorry! Uh... Carry on... Uh. Bye." was the most intelligent thing Stiles could manage as he tripped over his backpack, remembered to take it with him, and ran out the door again. In the Jeep - the nice, snug, noisy, too-small-for-sexing Jeep - Stiles was on the phone to Derek because, "Holy Shit! I need brain-bleach, man! Help!"

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

When Scott showed up, by himself because he had dropped Cora at her Mom's, he found Stiles' jeep in the driveway, with Stiles inside breathing into a paper bag. The guy had his cellphone to his ear and it sounded like Derek was trying to talk him down. Scott opened the car door and frowned at the scene.

"What the hell, dude?"

"I made them teenagers and they all lost their minds!" It was a rushed explanation, slightly squeaky, muffled by the inflate/deflate of a slightly greasy-on-the-bottom paper bag.

"They didn't lose- okay they did. But that is _not_ your fault," Scott heard Derek say over the phone. Scott reached out and took the cell from Stiles.

"What's going on?" he asked. Derek sighed. He was driving and on hands-free from the sounds of it.

"Stiles walked in on the parents... Having a moment. Or something."

"My mom?!" yelped Scott. Stiles' eyes widened and he started breathing faster into the paper bag while shaking his head.

"No, mine," said Derek. "With Argent."

Scott's face contorted in disgust and he wanted to drop the phone. "Gross, man. Just, no. Come on..."

Stiles started nodding his agreement. "In the living room. Sofa. Bleach. Need brain bleach."

"Peter had a similar reaction," said Derek. "It's why I had to take him home."

"This is a problem, man. They can't just go around traumatizing us like this," said Scott soberly. Stiles nodded his very fast agreement with that conclusion too; they were on a trauma-vibe.

"Look, I'm almost back. Then we can talk to them, set some ground rules or something on this teenager thing," said Derek.

"Yeah, this is not acceptable teenage behavior, I don't care how old they are," Scott said. Stiles narrowed his eyes at Scott.

"Remember Allison?"

"Yeah, but we never traumatized anyone," replied Scott. "Not the same."

That got him glared at over the top of a gradually calming fast food bag.

 

***

 

Something had to be done because Stiles refused to get out of the jeep until Derek showed up to convince him. It was decided that there had to be a pack meeting; if a rule applied to Talia and Chris, it had to go for the other three, too. When it got down to it, though, no one had the first clue how to tell a bunch of adults that they weren't allowed to act like teenagers. Because that was strange and bizarre and parents weren't supposed to act like rabbits. Especially not on the couch.

Scott, Derek and Stiles still hadn't settled on a course of action by the time Allison and Isaac showed up with groceries. With the frozen foods slowly unfreezing in the trunk, they were looped in on the crisis.

"I knew we should have told you guys," said Allison. "I knew it. As soon as practice was over."

"How was I supposed to know he was going to walk in on them?" asked Derek. " _Werewolf_ , okay? I figured Mom would hear anyone show up and... Behave accordingly."

"I woke them up," said Stiles, still twitching over it. Allison rolled her eyes.

"Still, you are making a big deal out of nothing," she said. As the boys started to protest, Allison arched an eyebrow. "No, _really_ , you are. You know where babies come from. You know we're all alive and breathing because at one point in our lives _we_ were babies. Parents aren't any different than the rest of us."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to witness the proof!" blurted Stiles. "There's a social hierarchy here and when the low man on the totem pole sees things they can't unsee- well, equality diminishes hierarchy, that's all I'm saying."

Allison performed an eyeroll and heel-turn worthy of Lydia and headed for the back of her car to start unloading groceries. "I am not participating in this. You want to embarrass yourselves, fine, but I'm getting the ice cream in the house."

Derek stared at her, baffled. "You get that it was our parents, right? My mom, your dad."

Allison stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah. And I'm not going to tell him who he can see. He did that to me and I didn't like it. They could do worse so just leave it alone."

"I'm not sure how they could do worse, but hey, as long as _you're_ okay with it," said Derek, dismissive. He caught the quiet oath from Stiles, saw the comprehension hit on his face and the way he braced to break up a fight. Derek just shook his head. "Sorry. Whatever. We still need to get everybody on the same page because if they're setting up house for the long term? The rest of us have to deal with it until we know how long they're going to be kids. Quarantine isn't going to work."

"Why not?" asked Isaac.

"Because they're babysitting themselves. They're obviously feeling fine. No adverse effects from the accident," said Derek. "Maybe we should... Try to get things back to normal."

Allison frowned at him. "How? They can't work-"

"That's why we gotta talk about it," said Scott, catching on. "Figure out how to keep everything going, in case this doesn't go away."

Allison stared between Scott and Derek. "They hooked up. They didn't get married. I think you're jumping the gun a little."

"It's not that. We couldn't talk about this last night," said Scott. "Everyone was too messed up. But now they... apparently aren't. Well, probably anyway. So maybe today someone will have more ideas. On how to get things back to some kind of normal."

Allison didn't look happy about it but she didn't have anything to argue it on either. She shrugged and grabbed a grocery bag. "Okay I guess," she said. "But nobody tells my dad he can't see who he wants just because he looks like he's sixteen right now. It's only _temporary_."

Stiles sagged unhappily against his jeep. "Can you at least tell him not to see them on the _couch_?"

 

***

 

Stiles helped unload the car but he was as jumpy as a narc on the witness stand. Which he kind of was, because Derek obviously wasn't thrilled with the whole Talia-likes-Chris thing, and there was just no way to misinterpret a no-shirts-snooze as just _good friends_. There was a _thing_ there and it was months in the making and that only meant Derek was an idiot for not wrapping his mind around it sooner like Allison had. And Stiles didn't like being the witness to it. It was never going to leave his head, engraved in brain-synapsids instead of an etch-a-sketch. Pack meeting or not, Stiles was going nowhere near Talia and Chris, no-sir. As soon as he was done helping, he headed straight for Scott's room fairly confident that Scott had been the only one defiling it recently. Derek caught him sneaking off and followed which, of course, Scott noticed.

"Come on, Stiles..." he began as they started up the stairs. "It's not that-"

"If you say it's not that bad I am putting Ex-Lax in your soda supply," Stiles hissed back at him.

"Look, right now she doesn't even look like my mom-" tried Derek. Stiles stopped and looked down at them from a step above.

"You said she looks a little like your sister. Which, no, I'm going with she doesn't, because - just because of reasons," said Stiles. He refused to mention having seen Derek's sister dead and just as uncovered and all the issues that was bringing up just in Stiles' own head. "And fine, I'd be okay if she did, maybe. Or if it had been Scott and Allison, I could handle that. Or Lydia - god, that I could have - well no because _Chris_ \- Holy God do you see how screwed up I am?!"

Scott and Derek stared at him, barely glancing at each other as confirmation that they were picking up on the crazy vibes loud and clear. Stiles looked to Derek.

"You. I like _that_ picture, I am _great_ with that one. I am not so great with seeing _your mom_ , around the age she brought _you_ into the world, as anything in any way _hot_. Do not make me talk to them until I have scrubbed that image from my brain."

"Oh my god _are you kidding_!" Derek somehow managed to keep his voice down. Scott started cracking up and had to catch the railing to keep himself from tripping down the stairs. Stiles and Derek both glared at him until he sobered. Then Derek shoved at Stiles to get him up the stairs.

"Go," he hissed. "We deal with this."

Stiles didn't argue and he turned to trot toward Scott's room. Scott trailed after them, not about to miss this fight.

"It's not _my_ fault you look alike," Stiles complained quietly. Derek pulled him to a stop then, about to argue that one right there in the middle of the hall, when the bathroom door at the other end of it opened. Nobody paid attention to it because they were otherwise distracted. Then Melissa let out a startled 'Yip!' and they looked up.

"Mel? Is that the only towel you've got in here?" called Casey Stilinski's voice from the bathroom the towel-clad-only teenaged version of Melissa had just stepped out of. "I think we should have done the laundry today instead..."

"Mom!" yelped Scott. He stuttered over it though, still not used to seeing another teenaged face as his parent. Mel gave a sickly smile and wave and slammed the bathroom door shut as she hid inside again.

Stiles was left slightly sludge-brained. He stood awkwardly in front of Derek, stared off at the end of the thankfully empty hall.

"They're everywhere," he muttered. "I can't go anywhere..."

"That was- okay, that wasn't helpful..." began Derek. "But it was-"

"My dad was in there!" Stiles clapped a hand over his eyes and leaned enough to start hitting his forehead on Derek's shoulder. Beside him, Scott was pink-faced and somewhere between angry and horrified.

"Okay... We leave them here," said Scott quietly. "I lock my bedroom door... To protect my stuff... and stay with you until this whole thing blows over."

Stiles jumped away from Derek and yelped. "Good god do not mention anything blowing anywhere! Ever!"

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

"It's my house. You, my dear, sweet boy who I occasionally want to murder, don't get to tell me what to do in it." Melissa was not backing down from that point and it really messed with everyone's head because she just didn't look old enough to be calling anyone her dear sweet boy. (Everyone kind of ignored the murder part.)

"But we've always had this clothes- _not_ -optional policy in your house and I really kind of liked those days," said Scott. "Like, a lot, liked them."

"Wolves have a much different policy," pointed out Casey Stilinski from the couch. He looked to Stiles, the source of that particular tidbit of information.

"Yeah but _context_ , dad!" Stiles said, stubborn. "Their clothing-optional policy is a byproduct of shifting between wolf and human-shape and they don't just absorb clothes into their DNA between forms! It is the exact _opposite_ of sexytimes when a wolf is wandering around naked. And, minor detail, you and Mel aren't wolves."

"Alpha," said Mel, calling attention to her less-than-pleased expression with her best Vanna White impression. Stiles somehow managed to look at her.

"Scrubbed out of the pack and impervious to your alpha trick," said Stiles, pointing to himself with his usual flare. "And seriously, traumatized."

That got him glared at and Melissa - fully clothed and back on her mom-game with the exception being her obvious physical age discrepancy - waved him off. “My point still stands. No, you guys don’t get to tell me what to do in my own house. Your complaints are _noted_. But there will be no intervention held here tonight.”

The last was aimed at Derek, because he was judged to be the ringleader of the “break-up the parents” mission. He stayed where he was, tucked behind crossed arms and leaned against the wall. Stiles sulked beside him. Allison and Isaac had the sofa, the parents had the couch, and Scott paced around the coffee table.

“Fine but what are we gonna do about this?” he asked. “You can’t work like this-”

“They think I have chicken-pox. All of us have chicken pox as far as anyone is concerned,” said Mel. “And beyond that, we just... hope for the best. Hope that it will clear up by the end of the week.”

“But I don’t think it will,” said Stiles. “And I think you guys are going a little crazy, but that’s not on the table, so what-if it’s still the same next week? Do we start trying to get you new ID’s and birth certificates and stuff? It’s not a quick process...”

“Wait. How do _you_ know that? About this supposed process...” asked Casey. The sheriff sat a little taller and studied his son, suspicious. Stiles floundered.

“That is beside the point,” he said carefully. “Let’s not kill me for more than one crime at a time, okay? And I still think turning my parents into midgets is a big enough one to deal with for awhile. Just, you know, by itself.”

Mel drew herself up to her full height as a stubborn response to being called a midget but then she realized she hardly cleared her son’s shoulder and that was just embarrassing. She sat down quickly. “We’re not midgets. And it’s only temporary, Deaton said it might not stick.”

“What’s the back-up plan if it doesn’t go away though?” asked Scott. “I mean it, Mom. This is a big deal and we gotta think of something to tell people when they come knocking on the door in a week...”

“There is no back-up plan and there won’t be one,” said Melissa. “Because we’ve gotten by on determination just fine so far. So we’ll keep it up. And nobody’s allowed to hit me with the negative vibes like this won’t go away. Do you hear me? No one. This will go away, and that’s the official word on the matter.”

There was silence for a moment as the kids all thought it over. Stiles finally shook his head. “Nope, I don’t get it.”

“The spark, Stiles,” said Talia. It was the first time she had said anything since Stiles had been dragged into the room and it pulled his attention to where she sat beside Chris. He almost ducked away again. Derek shifted enough to remind him that he was there and, rather than chicken out, Stiles crossed his arms and squinted through it.

“Don’t follow,” he said.

“When you believe it will work, it works,” replied Talia.

Stiles shook his head. “But in this case, I really don’t want to believe that I did something that works. I want that particular trick to un-work, quickly, but so far it hasn’t.”

“Which is why we stick to the story that this is only temporary. It will go away because we tell it to,” said Melissa.

“It’s only temporary because we all believe it’s only temporary and that will make it only temporary?” Derek asked. He didn’t sound convinced. Stiles nodded and pointed a finger at him without uncrossing his arms.

“Yeah, what he said,” he muttered.

“I’m not going to explain the supernatural to a druid,” said Melissa, frustrated. She ignored Stiles’ quiet addition of “in-training” and waved him off. “I am still the least qualified to do it. But yes, that is exactly what we’re doing right now. No back-up plans because a back-up plan means we don’t think it’s going to go away. We’re putting all our chips on the table and leaving them there until we win.”

Still not sold on the idea, Stiles looked to his dad. The sheriff was normally the last one to go for anything that didn’t have a good solid foundation in reality. Stiles had gotten used to figuring out science analogies for all things magic just so he could ramble to his dad about what he was learning from Deaton. (The whole druid-secret-agent thing didn’t really apply to Stiles since he was involuntarily drafted into the druidic world in the first place.) The weirdly-young face of his dad was its usual level of annoyed-at-Stiles and the contrary teenager realized that the whole plan apparently made sense to everyone except him. Stiles waved his hands and shook his head.

“Fine. Spark. All the chips. Got it,” he said. Melissa gave him the side-eye, not believing the easy acquiescence. Stiles was suddenly annoyed that the woman wasn’t actually seventeen because he was pretty sure the seventeen year old Melissa would have fallen for it. “What? I said I get it. That’s it. That’s _the_ back-up plan. No fake ID’s. No clothing-mandatory signs on the walls. Just ride it out and ohmygawd I didn’t say that. I’m... yep. I’m leaving now.”

Derek was probably the only one in the room not slowly giggling or choking on their efforts not to laugh at Stiles’ Freudian slide into the gutter. Stiles just wanted to go find a hole and bury himself in it but he thought twice about broadcasting that particular deathwish. Instead, he pulled his Jeep keys out of a pocket and headed for the door before he could make things any worse. His dad caught his arm as he tried to pass and Stiles cringed before looking over at him.

“Not so fast, Merlin,” said Casey. Stiles narrowed his eyes at the nickname; that was never a good sign. “You’ve got dinner to conjure up. And KP after.”

Stiles marched himself to the kitchen, swearing under his breath every few steps. He may or may not have threatened Derek with a midget spell in amongst the nearly silent rants but either way, Derek and Scott both showed up to help him figure out an actual meal for everyone.

 

***

 

If she was honest with herself, Mel would admit to greatly enjoying her renewed teenage experience. She didn't mind the lazing around the house. She didn't mind having to walk herself to the Stilinski house (since certain teenagers threatened to steal the cars and disappear off the grid if the parents weren't banished to their own houses to play by the same rules as normal teenage lovebirds) or the nostalgic weight of carrying a backpack instead of a purse. She didn't mind the energy boost - seriously, when had this disappeared on her over the years and why hadn't she noticed? - or the random urge to go play in the backyard. Melissa had done cheerleading in high school but now all she had was a basketball hoop in the backyard, and she wasn't too bad, just a little short.

She didn't even mind borrowing clothes from Lydia since hers were all a little baggy and, well, old. Cora was taller, like Talia, so they shared too, and the two teenaged-moms could walk in public without standing out. The guys didn't have the same problem, with the exception of Peter the fashionista, but Stiles was the only one his size and he refused to share based on the fact that Peter got creepier as a teenager. Peter refused because Stiles wore t-shirts with muffins on them and way too much plaid.

What Melissa didn't like to notice was the fact that the days kept slipping away from them all. The first week came and went, and she discovered that Scott was a terrible cook and needed help in the culinary department before she would let him ever leave the house for college. So that was one good thing to come out of the mess. Then there was the fact that Talia and Chris had finally stopped accidentally flirting with each other in exchange for _intentionally_ flirting. Also good, in Melissa's opinion. But that was about it. Every morning she checked the mirror hoping for the return of her laugh lines, or that one gray hair that had shown up the previous summer. It was a truly bizarre thing to be _disappointed_ by the mirror showing her youthful-if-slightly-bumpy skin and no crows feet anywhere on the horizon. (And oh god her hair was in a constant state of _kinked_ that she had forgotten barely living through the first time.)

It got into the second week and work started calling. She had to switch her sick days over to vacation days and claimed she had given the pox to her son and couldn't leave him. Parrish had been to visit the Stilinski house twice, very concerned for his boss, and there had been a mad scramble to bury Casey in his bed the second time. Lucky thing Stiles had memorized _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ and figured seeing a body in bed and breathing would convince the young deputy of the sheriff's dire-but-controlled illness. Casey had the right color hair to double for his older self and the rest of him was under blankets so Parrish had no reason to doubt the fake snoring. But that would only work for so long. It shouldn't have even worked in the first place.

They were pushing it, and they knew it. Melissa had gotten her bills paid for the month but if they wanted to keep eating like wolves, the kids were going to have to help. Scott had a job, so he could start doing the grocery shopping. That was as far as Melissa had thought out. She was afraid to think any further, afraid to jinx their gamble on the spark. It held the packs together, it saw them through a dozen different attacks of the weirdest weirds that Beacon Hills could hit them with in the last six months alone. Faith and luck and the determination that it would work if they believed it would work, that's what Mel had been living on. She had no other explanation for how she could play alpha to werewolves so that's what she went with. It was just maybe starting to let her down.

"What do we do with this?" she asked Talia quietly over iced tea at the condo. The big apartment was currently baking hot because Talia refused to run the air conditioning in an effort to dodge the electric bill the next month. Mel wasn't the only one worrying. Talia shook her head.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just started over when I got back. That wasn't that long ago. I don't really want to have to do it again. But this... It's getting to look like we may have to."

"I am not a fan of this idea. Nope, not okay with me," said Mel. "What's door two?"

"Uh... We come forward to the medical community and pretend to have contracted Benjamin Button disease?" It was the best second opinion Talia could offer up, and that was only because they had watched the movie the week before. It wasn't really on the table.

"Have you talked to Alan?" Mel asked. Talia's brow furrowed.

"He said he's chasing a few things with Stiles but so far everything they try turns up dead."

"Annnnnd that rules out door number three," said Mel. She sighed. "It looks like the whole idea to believe it's all only temporary didn't really stick, huh?"

Talia sipped at her tea, shook her head. "It did. But it started loosening its grip a day or so ago."

"Thanks for passing along the memo," said Mel. "You make a terrible secretary for a lawyer."

That earned a smirk. "We're going to have to teach you how to read minds, alpha."

 

***

 

In Beacon Hills, magical mayhem didn’t wait for convenient timing. That caused a problem for Melissa when she found out about it after the fact. It wasn’t that she could do much in the brute strength department, she didn’t have claws or teeth. But she wasn’t useless, either. She had her pack behind her. Scott had Derek, Cora, Isaac and Allison. They could get things done. So finding out that they had been getting quite a few things done without mentioning it to her because she was currently the visual age of seventeen was frustrating.

Sitting in his living room, Chris told Mel, Casey and Talia that he had mentioned missing supplies from his place to his daughter. He passed along that Allison very carefully accounted for the ammunition she had used in dispatching a selkie that had gone after Lydia’s mom, and then the aitvaras that the selkie had been using to steal from the Martins. Melissa just sat quietly for a moment, blinking at the news. How did the kids think not telling them about baby-sized dragons was okay?

Melissa was probably more jealous than anything. It wasn’t fair that her kid got to see dragons and she didn’t. And when did “it wasn’t fair” enter into Melissa’s parental vocabulary? (But on the other hand... _baby dragons_.)

“Wait, Allison killed a baby dragon?” Melissa asked suddenly. Chris and Casey stared at her. She stared back. “What?”

“Yes! They killed a baby dragon! You don’t _keep_ dragons, Mel,” blurted Chris. Talia frowned at him.

“But it was just a baby...” she said. Talia’s wounded expression faded when Chris turned his stare to her.

“What is wrong with you?” asked Casey. “Both of you. We have _monsters_ loose on my city and I can’t even go help my deputies deal with it. And you’re pouting about a baby dragon.”

“Come on, it’s not exactly Godzilla,” said Talia. Mel and Talia looked at each other a moment. They frowned almost as one. “Okay, yeah, there’s a problem with the thinking there.”

“Yeah,” agreed Mel. “Not wild about the wild things loose. Parrish doesn’t even know what he’s dealing with.”

“You were just _cooing_ over a baby dragon, Melissa,” said Chris. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“I do too. I’ve been doing my homework,” said Mel. She still looked unsettled as she really considered her reaction to the situation. “But... I’m not sure I’m really processing it right. Especially not the past few days. I think... I think something’s off.”

The observation was met with a silence that said she wasn’t the only one.

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

For the first time in Stiles' life, he found himself not arguing with being grounded. Three weeks in and he was still on cooking duty because his dad was still a twenty-something. He counted himself lucky; Allison and Scott were both older than their parents, and Derek had not-so-subtly forbidden Stiles from wondering how old Talia was. That was the second thing in his life that Stiles had been grounded about without arguing. As long as he didn't mention Derek's mom, he was allowed to hide from his dad at Derek's and he didn't get the couch. Everything was upside down in his life and he was approaching school starting up, just to shake everything around while it was at it.

For now, food had been cooked and served and Stiles and Scott cleaned and avoided the living room because their parents were worse than teenage rabbits. Like magnets were attached to their faces or something. And Stiles' dad was so much older than Scott's mom when one of them looked like a teenager, so it was weird, but Stiles couldn't really talk about that. They needed chaperoned but nobody wanted the job.

"Are you having any luck at all with undoing... things?" Scott asked. They stood in the kitchen at Stiles' house, the both of them dutifully sticking to being grounded and passing pots from kitchen sink to drying station.

"Nothing. I've saved like four plants and every time I try to un-do it, I kill them," said Stiles. "And there's no way I'm trying it on somebody's cat to see if plants are just different than mammals."

"Yeah, I guess that could be a bad idea," said Scott. He was about to say something else when he stopped and looked toward the front door. "Uh. Go hide your dad."

Stiles swore as he ran toward the living room. Someone knocked on the door just as Stiles got to the front window. He spun away from it, half blocking it from the couch where Casey and Mel were watching TV.

"Parrish."

Casey went pale and seemed to forget how to move. The door knocked again. Mel jumped.

"Koz, the cars are right there in the driveway," she whispered. "The windows are all open..."

Casey sighed. "Let him in, Stiles."

"What?!"

"It's Beacon Hills! He's seen weirder things than this. I just need to... Tell him the truth." Stilinski scrubbed at his face; he didn't believe himself either. Stiles stared at him, waiting for the plan to change. Parrish knocked on the door again.

"Go!" The sheriff waved him out of the room. It was weird how his dad could look and sound so unlike his dad and still definitely be his dad; Stiles collided with Scott on the way to obey.

The good Deputy Parrish was his usual painfully perfect self as he waited on the porch. He didn't like how long it took to answer, he was really worried about his boss, and Stiles looked a little pale so was he sick too? Stiles blushed and shattered the pale concerns and stammered to welcome the deputy inside. Stiles wasn't sure what to say so he tried not to say anything; he didn't like his dad's plan and he didn't agree with it but it wasn't actually his life in jeopardy to really argue. The last thing he wanted to do was screw it up again.

Parrish was a worse chatterbox than Stiles and basically entertained himself as Stiles and Scott herded him into the living room. Is the sheriff better? Could he at least come downstairs for a talk? There were a few weird things going on and the department could sure use some guidance... Stiles didn't manage much of a coherent response to any of it and looked to his dad for guidance since it was his idea. Parrish caught both Scott and Stiles staring at the couple on the couch and offered his hand in friendly greeting.

"I hope since you have guests the sheriff must be feeling better?" Parrish asked Stiles. To Casey and Mel he said, "Sorry to interrupt your visit, I work for the sheriff and just need a moment of his time. Deputy Parrish..."

Stiles started to panic as his dad just mutely shook the deputy's hand like they were strangers. Whatever plan Casey Stilinski had cooked up thirty seconds earlier was apparently gone. Stiles pulled out his phone and kept his attention split as he sent out an SOS to the rest of the big pack, including Peter. There was no way this would end well.

"Uh, Deputy, uh... This is..." Stiles' effort at kick-starting his dad's brilliant scheme worked at least a little and the twenty-something on the couch snapped out of it enough to deal with the twenty-something in uniform.

"Uh, I'm Ca-chase. Chase. I'm Stiles' cousin," Casey said.

Standing safely out of Parrish' sight, Stiles' eyes bugged as he listened to his dad lie. To a member of the sheriffs department. To a cop that he liked, even. He went a step further and lied to Parrish about who Melissa was, too. If it weren't for Stiles' pride, he would have fainted. Instead he edged around Parrish and collapsed into a chair. Stiles held his head in his hands and stared at the floor, trying to figure out how they were going to get around this newest development.

"So, uh... You're here for Casey?" Casey Stilinski asked. The lying liar who lied now. Parrish didn't have a clue and nodded, looked toward the hallway hopefully.

"Yeah. Got a few things..." Parrish began. Casey interrupted him.

"So Stiles didn't make a report yet?"

Stiles' head shot up so fast he thought he was going to give himself whiplash. Parrish looked between them, confused.

"What report?" he asked.

"Well... About Casey..." The sheriff was floundering slightly and Stiles tossed his hands to make it very clear that he was drowning on his own on this one; Stiles didn't have a clue where his dad was going with this plan. "Well, Stiles didn't want to make a report but- Sheriff Stilinski was kidnapped."

It took every ounce of willpower, and Scott's hand on his shoulder, to keep Stiles from jumping out of his chair to throttle his father.

 

***

 

Casey Stilinski had lied to his deputy. Not just any deputy, but the most thorough, professional, trusting deputy in the station and likely the best at his job. The absentee Sheriff not only spun a yarn, he knitted it into a sweater.

The only unraveling hole in it was that Stiles was the one who got dragged down to the station to make the report. He heard the story Casey pitched and then, at the station in front of half a dozen angry deputies, was expected to embellish on it. Scott and Derek had their faces plastered to the glass of his dad's office door, slightly paranoid that Stiles wouldn't be let out. Derek finally caved and used the boyfriend-card to get inside and offer "emotional support" during what Parrish referred to as a "trying time."

"Remind me to kill my dear _cousin_ when I get home," Stiles muttered under his breath when Derek eased onto the couch beside him. Derek huffed at him but gave no other sign of having heard.

"Chase said you saw the attack," Parrish asked Stiles. Stiles glared at the ceiling.

"Stiles, we can't help if we don't know what happened," the deputy tried again.

"But you _can't_ help," blurted Stiles. Derek caught his hand suddenly, dragging his attention away from the ceiling. His bushy eyebrows arched in the way they had that indicated he knew something Stiles didn't, and Stiles trusted the wolfy senses well enough not to argue. He looked out at the gathered deputies and saw concern and angry frustration so who knew what Derek picked up on.

"They already know. Just tell them, Stiles," Derek said. Stiles snarled a little and kicked at the floor.

"Fine."

Stiles spent the next hour _making up a story_ of his father's kidnapping, alongside Melissa McCall and Talia Hale. Sure, Chris Argent was their friend but he had left town on business over a week ago and Allison knew exactly where he was, and Stiles hadn't told anyone except his stupid cousin. Nobody asked about Peter Hale so Stiles didn't offer anything up. Just the sheriff, a nurse from the hospital, and a lawyer who hadn't yet re-upped on the bar exam. A perfectly high-profile kidnapping, as laid out by Stiles' father who should have known better than to lie to his own deputy.

It was useful having a werewolf in the room as he lied. Stiles reeled out the stories, Derek read the room with his super-human lie-detector senses, and when Stiles laid it on too thick Derek let him know by squeezing his hand or not-so-accidentally kicking his shoe. Stiles tried to avoid the drama but everyone knew him, everyone knew his dad, and everyone knew they put family first, so there was no selling a kidnapping story without a little waterworks. One more tally mark under reasons he wanted to kick his dad's twenty-something ass.

By the time he was done - _really_ done, lying was hard work and Stiles generally sucked at lying to cops - Parrish had brought in the sketch artist. That was slightly terrifying. Stiles' father hadn't been kidnapped so how was Stiles supposed to help somebody draw a picture of a kidnapper that didn't exist? He pulled up the mental image of a guy who he had seen hanging around Deaton's the last few times Stiles had been there. A few details were changed as he tried to describe the stranger because Stiles didn't want the poor guy hunted as a cop-kidnapper. The artist rendering showed a beak-nosed man in his late forties with big eyes and red fuzzy hair. He looked a bit like a model put out to pasture, like one of those smiling faces stuffed into picture frames to sell them off the shelves. Not fully accurate, but close enough.

"This is the man you saw attack your dad, Mrs. McCall and Ms. Hale?" Parrish asked. Stiles cringed. Maybe he would have to tell that guy to lay low for awhile if he saw him again. To Parrish, he nodded.

"Yeah, he was the only one not wearing a ski mask," said Stiles. "But it was kinda dark and we don't have the best lighting on the driveway." God, he was so buried in lies.

"And you didn't get a license plate?"

"No, I was stuck in the house," Stiles said.

"But you did get a phone call."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, from my dad. He said he was working with the guy so don't call anybody."

If his dad the sheriff ever got his face back, he was going to have one helluva web to untangle.

 

***

 

"What the hell were you thinking?" Chris blurted when he heard the story. He, Talia, Cora and Peter had shown up just in time to see Derek drive Stiles off amid a police escort, Scott trailing on his bike. Allison, Isaac and Lydia showed up, too, but Danny and the twins only checked in by text message. The twins were on a camping trip and Danny had been dragged to the Bay Area for school shopping so he was still hours from home. There was nothing they could do about it anyway.

"I panicked," said Casey. The man was still kicking himself for it. "We weren't expecting Parrish again so soon and then he was here and when I tried to tell him the truth, I panicked."

"You threw your own kid under the bus," observed Peter, impressed. "I'd shake your hand but I'm probably the only one present who can nostalgically enjoy that."

"I will nostalgically kick your ass if you don't stop acting like the jerk you were when you were sixteen," said Talia.

"Wait... Is that what's going on with you guys?" Allison asked. The sudden realization had derailed her focus on the larger problem of the evening and she would not be put off from it by annoyed looks from the over-youthful parents. "Are you just... Going back to how you were as kids? Mentally, I mean. Is it catching up and getting worse?"

"No, we're fine," said Chris. Allison looked over at her dad, which was always weird because he looked so much younger than her.

"I have never seen you screw up simple math before when you're working, but you had to write out a sale long-hand to close yesterday. And I know you got C's in math in high school," she told him.

"I was tired," Chris defended. Allison glared.

"Dad! You made three fart jokes today alone! I counted!"

"So? It was funny!" Chris' confused defense stopped when he saw the concerned look from Talia. He shrugged and paced. "Okay, so I'm not on my game."

"None of you are," said Lydia. "The sheriff just panicked when he had to talk to somebody. Stiles does that, his dad doesn't. It's something people grow out of. And you guys are... Growing into it. Backwards."

"I'm going to call Deaton," said Mel. "I don't like this pattern."

 

***


	7. Chapter 7

The storytelling happened all over again when Stiles got back to the house. By then it was dark and Stiles was triggery; the Stilinski family almost ended up in a brawl in the living room. It would have been mostly one-sided with Stiles kicking his dad’s ass but Mel still broke it up. The alpha thing still worked in her favor against Casey and Scott was still quick to pull Stiles out of fights. It got him zapped but he had gotten used to that over the last six months anyway and Mel didn't say anything about another hole to get patched this time.

The parents were on edge, aware of their own questionable fates as well as the position they had just put Stiles, Derek and Scott in legally by lying on the record about the disappearance of the county sheriff. It didn't put Casey in a great position if and when they returned to their normal, recognizable selves, either. They were looking at an easy month of missing time as a best case scenario and would have to account for every minute of it when they went back to their lives. In the meantime, they lied and cursed well-intentioned druid-tricks. When everyone had heard and memorized the story Stiles had fed the sheriffs department, Mel ordered Stiles to Derek's loft for the night, and as an added precaution, ordered Peter to Talia's to be sure Derek's roommate didn't set Stiles off further.

It was supposed to only be temporary but the arrangement lasted another week. Stiles wasn’t exactly hiding, except for the part where Casey could tell that he _was_. As long as Casey was okay letting Stiles hide, then Derek was okay letting him hide and the two did the temporary cohabitation thing just fine. School starting back up gave Stiles the excuse to worry about other things and it was his dad’s chance to try steering life back to some semblance of normal. Casey had nothing but time on his hands to make sure Stiles was working on homework now and he actually looked forward to it. The day before school started, he sat down with Stiles to watch TV and offered up an idea he had been mulling over for a few days.

“So... I was thinking about going to school with you until this all blows over,” said Casey. Stiles looked at him, surprised enough that he turned off the TV.

“I am now positive you’ve lost your mind,” said Stiles. “As someone who has done that before, I am really worried.”

“Why? Because I want to go back to school? Come on, Stiles, it’s just school,” said Casey. “It’s not like I have anything else I can do. I can’t go get a job. I’m seriously considering dropping the cable bill for awhile until we have a real income coming in again and I’ve already gone through every bookshelf in the house...”

“ _Just_ school?” echoed Stiles. “Have you not seen me killing myself for the past two years...”

Casey nodded. “But that’s not the school’s fault. You’ve had a _bad_ two years-”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“And that’s _why_ I want to go to school. Back to it, I mean,” said Casey carefully. Stiles looked over at him, still not getting it. Casey scrunched his expression and scrubbed at his fluffy head of hair. He waved to Stiles. “Well, you do it. You and the others, you all hold your shit together and do your homework and take your tests. And we _expect_ that of you. I have this whole time, even before I knew anything about what else was going on. And you haven’t let me down. You do things a little sideways, maybe, but...”

Casey trailed off in his usual awkward as Stiles went remarkably silent. His son wouldn’t look at him, just stared at the remote in his hand and tapped it against his knee, stuck thinking apparently. Casey fussed with a soda can. “Well, if I expect it out of you I should be able to give it a shot when I’ve got the chance.”

“So you’re, what, asking my permission to go?” asked Stiles finally. Casey shrugged and nodded. Stiles still hardly looked up at him. “I should let you do it just because you think it’s _just_ school.”

“Sure, if you think it’d prove me wrong,” said Casey. “I’ll take whatever reasoning will get me out of the house.”

With a roll of his eyes, Stiles sank back in the chair and turned the TV back on. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you get stuck in basic algebra and still can’t do the homework.”

Casey shook his head, waved dismissively. “I’m not signing up for anything. I just figured I’d go and follow you around, take your classes. Something to do...”

“Nope. No deal.” Stiles flicked the TV off again. Casey leaned forward in his chair as Stiles went back to bossing.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” he asked his son. “Hand over a birth certificate that says 1960 on it? Tell the nice ladies at the office that my previous school burnt up in a fire and that’s why I have no school records?”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Can we do that?” he asked. “I mean, they don’t actually have any way of checking - no, I guess it would be kind of easy to track down a school records fire...”

Casey sighed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Stiles.”

“You’re still too old to just show up and take up somebody’s desk, Dad...”

“Maybe I’m not. All you kids are so huge nowadays-”

“You did not just say _nowadays_ -”

Casey cut a glare to his kid and carried on. “-that nobody will notice. And if they do, fine. I’ll just say I’m your cousin and was just checking up on you and it’ll get me home and not-”

“-arrested for being a perv on a high school campus?” Stiles finished for him. Casey tried to wave that logic off but Stiles just stared at him. Casey shook his head.

“Too late, kid. You said I could, so we’re trying it. Perv on campus or not,” he said.

“Fine, but do _not_ mention my name when the cops show up,” said Stiles. “You’ve already done enough damage to my permanent record.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Let’s not mention permanent damage. I’ll be tempted to bring up my face.”

Stiles stared at him, eyebrow arched in annoyance. Casey reached over and stole the remote to turn the TV back on.

“Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I meant.”

 

***

 

When school started, Stiles wasn't surprised to learn Melissa and Chris had decided to trail their kids to school too.

"Seriously, was this a conspiracy?" he asked.

"No," said Mel. Stiles was pretty certain her protest was based more on principle than fact.

"It's more like paranoia," said Chris. He looked paranoid. He looked like the picture in the dictionary next to the word _paranoid_. He did not look like he had any part in the decision to go back to school. Stiles squinted at him.

"So why-"

"Because Mom's afraid the cops will see through what you told them and whisk us away without her knowing about it," said Scott. Mel punched his shoulder. Stiles wasn't sure if he was more offended on behalf of his acting skills or because that was basically the exact opposite reason Casey had given for wanting to tag along at school. His dad picked up on it and tugged on his shoulder to draw his attention.

"She took my idea," Casey said. "Not the other way around."

"We should make you register with the office," Stiles muttered, annoyed nonetheless.

"Not happening," said Casey.

"Just... Try not to act like yourselves then," said Allison. "It's hard enough keeping our heads above water in this shark tank. Please don't screw it up for us on the first day back."

It was Melissa's turn to be offended and she looked down at her borrowed outfit and then over at Chris and Casey. Stiles sighed.

"What she means is, you're in Rome now, okay? Keep your heads down and do as the Romans do once you've got a real handle on what that is," he said. Scott nodded.

"It's not easy, Mom. I told you-" he began, only to be interrupted by Chris.

"First rule then. No calling her _mom_ ," he said. He pointed from himself to Mel to Casey. "We're none of us old enough to have kids. So it's Chris, Melissa and Casey."

"Chase," Stiles corrected quickly. "He told Parrish he's my cousin Chase, remember?"

"Right, Chase," confirmed Chris. He shook his head and rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "God, this is weird."

It was then decided that, just to be on the safe side, the parents could not tag along with their own kid. Less likely there would be any screw-ups in the name department. Mel followed Lydia to class, because Lydia was the better example of how to blend in with the cool kids. It was reasoned that Lydia's class load would probably fit better with Mel's nursing background, too. Isaac and Scott flipped a coin to figure out who got stuck with Chris - "No offense, Mr. Argent." - and Casey tracked down Danny. Stiles was pretty sure his dad only wanted to follow Danny around because he wanted to know if he had to worry about Danny having hackers for friends, a sort of two-birds situation for the way-off-duty sheriff of Beacon Hills. The arrangement worked out for Stiles because it meant he had no more than two classes with any of them. It was the only way he made it to lunch hour still sane.

 

***

 

They survived day one without any teachers arguing about why they had extra students who weren't on the rosters. To Talia, who had spent the day at Deaton's trying to scrounge up new ideas, it was entertaining listening to Melissa, Casey and Chris comment on the smooth sailing of their first day.

"I'm not sure what they're always complaining about," said Mel, her tone confidential to avoid riling up any student-werewolves who may be eavesdropping from Scott's room. Still, she seemed somewhere between excited, amazed and baffled. "Lydia knows everyone and I don't think I've ever been told not to talk to so many people in my life. Just avoid the leaches and stick to the jocks."

Chris stared at her over his fork full of salad. "Really? Leeches?"

"Her words, not mine," said Mel.

"Not everyone can be a jock, you know," said Casey. He was a little too obviously trying to defend his son, having now witnessed the feeding-frenzy known better as high school social structure. As was her way, Talia reached over and ruffled Casey's hair, smirking and amused.

"This was your idea," she reminded him.

"Yeah, and I'm not sure if it was a good one or not," said Casey. "I have seen and heard things that I will never wipe out of my mind. And I think Danny feels like a narc and I'm not even sure if I want to do anything about that. Do you know how many of these kids have fake ID's by the time they're a sophomore?"

Chris quickly ducked his attention back to his food. Casey noticed the suspicious behavior and his shoulders sagged. "Oh come on, Argent. Don't tell me-"

"Then don't ask," advised Talia. She didn't want to know. She looked to Chris, idly kicked at his shoes under the table. "You're awful quiet over there about everything. Was high school exactly how you remembered it?"

"No," said Chris. "I remember fewer cell phones, no laptops, and we definitely didn't have a calculator doing our algebraic formulas and graphing for us. If I weren't potentially stuck in it for the duration, I'd be submitting complaints somewhere on behalf of my daughter’s education."

"What do you mean?" asked Mel.

"I mean I sucked at math in high school," said Chris. "I was kind of worried about bigger things. So I'm not going to actually complain about something that I might need in order to pass a class if I end up needing another diploma."

"That's not going to happen," said Mel patiently. "We're just watching the kids' backs."

"If it does, I think we could get away with it," said Casey. At the curious glance from Chris, and Mel's studious efforts at ignoring him, he shrugged. "The teachers didn't give me any flack for taking up a seat in their class. Stiles said after this week, most of them stop bothering with roll. If we stick this out, we could just ask them what happened to our enrollment papers and the damn school's backwards enough it might fly."

"You mean lie to the office staff and school district-" began Melissa, her discomfort no match for Talia's smug grin.

"- and threaten to sue them for losing your confidential paperwork?" asked the lawyer already making plans for her argument. "It could work. You all showed up at the same time, we suggest your papers got filed together and misplaced. We could try it. If we need to."

"I really don't want a full year of nothing but jocks," said Mel quickly.

"Aww, you've still got us," chimed in Casey. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

Chris kicked lightly at Talia to get her attention back. "Yeah, but what about you?"

"I already graduated," she said. "A little make-up and maybe some hair-dye and I could pass for myself. Say I had some work done..."

"One hitch in that plan," said Casey. He cringed and stabbed at his food. "Remember I said you were with Mel and I..."

Talia had forgotten. She scowled at him for the reminder. "For a sheriff I think you are too quick with the lies."

"That's what I get for hanging out with lawyers," returned Casey. Talia arched an eyebrow and allowed the dig to pass.

"I guess tomorrow I try to look eighteen," she said, thinking it over. "Just in case."

Mel frowned at her. "That reminds me. What about Peter in all of this? What is he going to do if we can't fix this?"

"He still has a trust fund to live on, as long as he behaves himself," said Talia. "Just like Derek. He won't have any problems looking a little young. We're the only people he really knows."

Mel only looked more concerned. "That didn't make me feel any better."

 

***

 

Hiding again, Stiles sat at the table doing his homework. His dad had followed Danny around successfully for two days so far. It was weird. Stiles had the same English and history class as his father and they weren't in college. The elder Stilinski was already half way through their assigned reading for the week while Stiles was struggling to stay focused on simple biology refreshers. It was messing with his head and it was his own fault.

"How many questions left?" Derek asked from the couch.

"All of them," replied Stiles.

Derek poked his head over the top of the couch. "You're boring."

They had a great system for keeping Stiles focused on homework. It involved Derek offering a few minutes of his time as a reward for every few pages of work completed or every so-many questions answered. It kept Stiles focused for short bursts and then otherwise occupied in between until his attention-span came back. They had perfected it in the spring working all-nighters on essays and then woah, was finals a joyful experience for the first time in the history of ever. And now the system was lagging.

Stiles kept his eyes trained on his paper. "You're not helping..."

"Yeah, because you're not working," said Derek. Stiles couldn't exactly argue with that so he just bit his tongue and squinted at his textbook. The words started to wander off. He closed the book on the worksheet pages and shoved it away.

"I'm not doing your homework for you," said Derek. Stiles looked up, surprised to see him settling down in the chair next to him.

Stiles shook his head, reached for the notebook Derek had sat down. "This is the first week. If I need you to do my homework _already_ , I'm dropping out now before Lydia finds out." He flicked through a few pages and looked over at Derek, brow furrowed. "What's this?"

"Mom's house," said Derek. Stiles stared at the sketches and their penned measurements and flicked between filled pages of the otherwise boring, black and white, wide-ruled, single subject notebook.

"This?" he asked, openly surprised. "This is a house? This is how you spend your free time?"

"Yes?" Derek said, bushy eyebrows bowed together in confusion. "Houses require plans..."

"Blueprints and..."

"Yeah, so I used a notebook. More portable, less annoying," said Derek. Stiles stared at him, jaw slack.

"So you're just going to build a house."

Derek nodded. "Yep. That tends to be the prerequisite to someone living in one."

"By yourself? Your own two hands and a notebook with pictures..." Stiles was slightly in awe at the idea of it. And very turned on. He had never built anything bigger than a science fair project. "But your Mom's not working-"

"I was thinking I'd let the lease run out on this place," said Derek. "I can work on the house with the rent-money, couch-surf at Mom's until the roof and walls are up."

"I have a couch," said Stiles quickly. "And a bed. Bed is awesome. You can work on the house and I have a bed you can surf on."  
Derek smirked at him and that really, really didn't help. Stiles was getting uncomfortable in the usually comfy chair and had leaned into Derek's space.

"You're drooling," Derek observed. Stiles double checked that he wasn't before shoving the notebook-blueprints at Derek's chest.

"No, I am picturing you building a house in the worst part of summer. There is sweat and dirt and sawdust involved but no drooling."

Smug wolfy bastard that he was, Derek smiled and tugged the notebook out of Stiles' hands. He then dropped the heavy biology textbook - worksheets still tucked inside - on Stiles' lap. He hadn't seen it coming and _oof'd_ at the surprise, unwanted weight.

"We can talk about where I'm surfing when you get your work done," said Derek. "No slackers."

Stiles let the textbook drop to the table in annoyance. "You. Are an evil... Not fair."

"I'm not evil," said Derek. "We have a system. _Use it._ "

Damn him anyway, but the system got back on track and Stiles had never scrambled through science worksheets so fast.

 

***


	8. Chapter 8

There was one parent-free class on Stiles' schedule and he was totally okay with that. Physical education was his new free-period just because he didn't have to worry about someone announcing there was a spy-for-the-sheriffs-department in the room. Allowed to relax for the first time all day, he dressed down for class in peace. Stiles slammed his locker and then actually screamed as he saw someone standing and waiting for him on the other side of the locker.

"What-"

"Okay that was ridiculous, Stiles. You scream like a girl. A gigantic, ugly girl. Have some pride, for my nephew's sake," interrupted Peter. Stiles scowled at him.

"That's funny, you're standing here in a high school locker room telling me to have some pride," Stiles hissed back at him. "What are you doing here? And how long have you been there."

"Let me just remind you of that time I came home to my apartment, the one I split rent on? And lo and behold there was a tangled mess on my beautiful leather couch-" Peter would have continued but Stiles jumped forward and shoved a towel in his mouth. Peter calmly shoved him in return and removed the towel, draping it over his neck as camouflage. "Long story short, I saw more on my couch than I did in your high school locker room."

Stiles glared at him. "Yeah, funny guy. Why are you here?"

"Stilinski!" Stiles jumped as coach yelled at him from right behind him.

"Which Stilinski?" asked Peter.

"Yeah, coach!" said Stiles quickly. Coach Finstock looked from Peter to Stiles and back.

"...have I seen you before?" Coach asked. Peter shook his head, smile set to charm-mode. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"No, coach," said Peter. "Brand new this year. It was not me on the basketball team a few years ago, I just _look_ like the kid in the trophy case."

Stiles tried to take advantage of Coach's distraction to edge by but Coach raised an arm to block him, obviously associating him with Peter already. He scowled and sat down on the bench to remove himself a little further. Coach hadn't given up on Peter and still squinted at him.

" _If_ you're new. How do you _know_ about the trophy case?"

Peter shrugged, the picture of innocence. "Greenberg showed me."

Coach scowled and walked away, muttering, "Damnit, Greenberg."

Peter waited to be sure he had gone before turning to Stiles again.

"You're annoying, you know that right?" Stiles asked. "You shouldn't be here. It's a school. You could so damage-"

"Your faith in me is touching, Stiles, really," said Peter with a roll of his eyes. He brought a shoe up to the bench and leaned over his knee to glower down at Stiles. "But all I want is the name of the kids with the fake IDs. I want an ID card that will get me a little further in life than the local library."

"Not my prob-"

"Really? Whose fault is it that I can't use my own ID?" interrupted Peter. "Because seems to me, that _is_ on you."

Peter's guilt trip was cut short by Coach Finstock showing up at the end of the row again. Peter stepped back out of Stiles' space and went back to his usual non-threatening stance. Finstock pointed at Peter.

"How'd you get in my class?" he asked.

Annoyed at the interruption, Peter rolled his eyes. "Greenberg invited me."

The coach balked, struck momentarily stupider than usual. "What the hell. This is a school, not a party. You can't just invite people."

Peter shrugged. "Greenberg did. And he promised me vodka."

This did not make Coach happy. "Well, Greenberg can just get his own vodka. I am not handing out vodka to minors."

"No problem, coach," said Peter. It looked like Finstock was going to leave again. Peter caught his attention back. "Do you still keep that _water_ bottle in your desk?"

"Yes..." Finstock looked confused by the question. Stiles ducked into his shirt to hide from the secondhand embarrassment that was the Beacon Hills coach.

"Perfect," said Peter.

"No... How'd you-"

Peter interrupted with a smile. "Greenberg."

Finstock walked toward his office then, "DAMNIT GREENBERG," echoing off the locker room walls. Peter looked to Stiles, smug. Stiles stared, openly confused. He tried to let it go but it wouldn't leave his head.

"How do you even know about Greenberg?" He had to ask. There was no way to wrap his brain around it.

"Greenberg followed that idiot all through school," said Peter. "I didn't figure he'd ever get rid of him."

There was no way to know if Peter was lying or not so Stiles shook it off, accepted it and tried really hard not to think about Coach Finstock in school with Greenberg and Peter both.

"I'm not introducing you to any students right now," said Stiles, quick to undercut Peter's triumph. "So you can go read up on the ID thing at the library."

"Making me younger didn't declaw me, you know." Peter leaned back into his space. "Quite the opposite. Remember the damage? From the fire... And the coma... And your ineffective efforts to wipe me from the planet?" Peter waved a hand and sprouted wolf claws. "Gone. Like they never happened."

"Great," said Stiles. Because really, he needed that one more thing to guilt over. "Instead of intimidating me about this stuff, you should be thanking me. Awesome. Glad we're all on the same page."

"I'm not above intimidation. It's an underappreciated art."

Stiles stood up, not backing down from Peter's games. "I have the scariest members of your family on speed dial. You better be off school grounds by the time I'm done with class or they'll be here to handle your art. I don't have time for it."

"Heathen," complained Peter. Stiles glared at him but didn't stick around to reply. He waited until he was out of the locker room to pull out his phone. Stiles then sent Talia and Derek a text, turning tattle tale in seconds flat and not caring at all.

 

***

 

The text from Talia had been a copy-and-paste from Stiles' message. Mel was in the middle of class and, as it happened, enjoying the refresher course in anatomy. She was another pretty face who could kick the boys' ass academically. Mel raised her hand to answer the trick questions and Lydia sat not far from her practically preening. But Lydia saw her check the silent text and saw her expression change. She immediately raised her hand.

"May I show Mel where the ladies rooms are? She's new here," Lydia asked as soon as she was called on. Mel blinked but didn't argue the quick thinking. In a minute they had gathered their things and rushed out to the hall. Lydia asked only where they were going and Mel paused. The text said the gym, but her gut said they wouldn't find Peter there. Doors opened elsewhere along the hall then and Casey and Chris showed up too. Mel looked to Lydia.

"You should go back to class," she said.

"I can't go back in without you," said Lydia, waving it off. "Buddy system and everything. It would look more suspicious that I abandoned you to the bathrooms alone than if we're gone the rest of class."

"We have to track down _Peter_ ," said Mel.

"Then nope, I'm going," said Lydia. "Jerkface isn't allowed at my school."

Mel just shook her head, the grin tempered by Casey and Chris' arrival.

"Locker rooms are this way," Casey said. He caught Mel's arm to lead the way and she tugged back.

"He's not there anymore. He's behind the cafeteria," she said. Lydia made a strangled noise. "What?"

"Just goes to show that the creepers flock together," said Lydia.

Mel's instinct proved right. They found Peter hanging out behind the cafeteria with a couple of stoners, trying to make new friends over a water bottle that they kept passing around.

"Dude, this tastes like water," Mel heard one of the teens complain.

"That's because vodka tastes like water," said another one. He laughed at his fellow idiots while Peter looked ready to kill himself. He recognized Mel on approach and his shoulders sagged in ready defeat.

"Woah... Hot chick convention," muttered one of the idiots. Mel and Lydia crossed their arms, neither one impressed.

"You need to leave," Mel told the four boys lounging around the grime of the dumpsters.

"Why? You gonna narc?" one of them asked. None of them were even slightly concerned.

"Really? Narc?" Lydia asked. "I wouldn't waste my time. But I am about to scream at this piece of trash over here and that will give you one mother of a headache in your state."

"Trash?" Peter echoed, offended. Lydia glared at him.

"Make your friends leave," she ordered. Mel and Casey and Chris exchanged glances, trying not to laugh at the stare-down between wolf and banshee. Peter almost looked like he would cave to it. He didn't and Mel got tired of waiting. She caught the arm of the nearest kid and tugged him away from the dumpsters.

"Hey-" His protest ended in a yelp as the buzzed and bloodshot teen looked back at the pretty girl manhandling him and saw glowing red eyes. He scrambled away so fast that his buddies didn't know whether to laugh or protest. Then Mel looked back at them and they decided they had other places to be than hanging around "demon-chicks." The boys got to their feet, somewhat wobbly, and ran off. _With_ Peter's water bottle of vodka.

"I should probably thank you," said Peter on a sigh. "I was losing brain cells."

"What the hell possessed you to come to this school and start handing out alcohol?" demanded Casey.

"I already told you to stay away from my school," added Lydia. Peter cut a half-hearted glare at her.

"Stay out of this, sweetheart. Pack business," said Peter.

"The school is not ours," corrected Mel. "It's Scott's. So if Lydia told you to stay off campus, you should have listened."

"Stiles said he can get us fake ID's. He won't cooperate with my efforts to get on with my life so I had to try other ways," said Peter.

"You don't attack a kid in a locker room and expect him to _cooperate_ ," said Chris. "Especially not that one."

"It's his damn fault in the first place so he _should_ cooperate-" Peter's return rant was silenced quickly by a punch to the jaw from Casey.

"Leave my kid alone!" Casey was little better than growling. Lydia backed off behind Chris as Peter recovered. His lip healed as he moved and he looked at Casey like the sheriff really had lost his mind in the rewind.

"You really want to fight me? You're scrawny just like..." Peter was almost laughing. It riled up Casey - he had the worst temper of all of them, damnit, and Peter knew what buttons to push, - and he went after Peter again. Chris dove in to pull the two wrestlers apart and Peter hit him aiming for Casey. Someone got slammed into the dumpsters hard enough to move them, possibly even leave a dent, and Mel had enough.

High heels, short skirt and all, she waded in and caught Peter by the back of the neck. She didn't have much for claws but she'd had a manicure a few days earlier and just enough nail to get his attention. She pulled him away and, in her alpha-voice (the one that sounded a lot like her mom-voice, even as a teenager) ordered the fight to stop. Determined to put an end to the problem, Mel _willed_ Peter in particular to settle down. She didn't think it would work but she put everything she had into silently telling him to knock it off. To her surprise and relief, Peter backed off, looking stunned.

Unfortunately, as soon as she turned around to check on Lydia, Mel saw the fight had gathered a crowd. Faces pressed up against the large windows and the doorway was blocked by adults and students alike. Right up at the front of it was the principal. He was not pleased, even if the fight had stopped. He pointed to Peter, Chris and Casey in turn.

"The three of you, in my office, now," the man ordered in his stuffy accent. Mel glared at Peter and he sulked, picking himself up off the ground where she had set him. He followed the principal, trailed by Chris and Casey. Scott pressed out of the crowd to get to Lydia and his mom. Mel waved him off.

"Just get on to class," she told him. "Both of you. I'll get them home."

"Yeah, since they're about to be suspended," said Scott. He still looked unsettled. "Who decided to let Peter come to school?"

Mel sighed. "Peter did."

 

***


	9. Chapter 9

Three teenagers sat and waited in front of the principal’s office. Two of them sported bruises. One of them looked a bit too old to be there. None of them were actually teenagers.

“Why are we even here?” muttered Chris. “He’s in there trying to make us stress out and we’re not even on the books.”

The logic surprised Casey and Peter both. For a moment they just stared at Chris. There really was no reason for three students who weren’t actually students to do just as they were told, aside from Casey’s law-abiding habits and a sort of pack-ingrained peer-pressure. They burst out laughing, Casey first and then Peter, which only made Chris paranoid and intensified the glare he aimed at Peter.

“What?” he asked, growly.

“No, you’re right,” said Casey. “We could. What’s he going to do?”

Chris relaxed a little but he still kept his arms crossed and slouched in his chair. Peter stood up, tossed off a salute. “You two just sit here and protect your diploma daydreams. Thanks for the good times, Stilinski. I’m out.”

Casey and Chris didn’t acknowledge him, their attention caught by something just past him. It was with smug satisfaction that they watched Peter Hale turn around to face the principal.

“Goddamnit,” muttered Peter. The principal pointed toward his office and Peter started to argue but ultimately caved. Casey would have preferred Peter take off running, but that would have been a little too useful to his and Chris’ ultimate goal of not getting kicked off campus themselves. Peter wouldn’t do something helpful like that. Casey just hoped Peter didn’t say something to screw it up.

“Stilinski?” the principal asked. “Which one of you is Stilinski?”

Casey cringed and that was apparently enough; the principal looked him up and down suspiciously and Peter smirked at him from the doorway. The principal waved Casey toward the office too.

“There’s one mystery solved. What’s your name then?” he asked, pointing to Chris. Chris looked to Casey for help but he could only shrug.

“Uh... Lahey?” he said. Casey tried not to grin. He had dealt with the school often enough to know the files didn’t have the kids’ photos.

They could work with this, as long as their new namesakes didn’t show up to save them. As Casey walked by the door, Peter gave him a sarcastic, bitter look.

“So that leaves me with McCall, huh?” he asked quietly. Casey shrugged.

“Cora’s on file here. You could try to keep it in the family.”

Peter wasn’t as amused as the sheriff by his suggestion.

 

***

 

Considering the sheriff had gotten his son suspended for the day, it didn't go so bad. Which was to say that at least it could have gone worse. They tried calling the house rather than the sheriff's office and when no one answered, Chris offered up Talia's cellphone number

"This is the sheriff's number?" asked the principal.

"No..."

"It's Melissa McCall's," said Casey quickly. Peter rolled his eyes. Slouched in his chair, he pulled out his phone to text his sister. The principal checked the files and found Melissa was the emergency contact for both Stiles Stilinski and Isaac Lahey, said nothing about the different numbers, and dialed the number Chris had given him instead.

Talia showed up twenty minutes later to collect them. Testing her theory about making herself look older, she had make-up on too thick with not enough color, sunglasses, and one of Chris' jackets. She still didn't look old enough but the principal didn't say anything about it. Chris did a lot of age-inappropriate staring at her jeans and that was possibly what the principal was distracted by, too. Talia escorted her fellow pack-mates out, her brother caught around the back of the neck and adding authenticity to the lie about their identities as the McCalls.

They left campus between classes and happened to pass Stiles.

"Oh my gawd!" The teen managed not to yell but there was absolute exasperation in his tone to match the expression on his face. Stilinski grimaced and waved him off. Talia backed it up with a "Get to class, Stiles," and Peter took the excuse to stomp on his sister's foot. Stiles turned and sped away, confused on top of everything else and probably deciding he wanted no part of any of it. Casey was fairly certain he wouldn't be seeing his kid at the house for a day or so again. That was probably a good thing.

 

***

 

There was no way to know which Scott was angrier about, but he wasn't cool with being suspended and he wasn't cool with the fact that Peter had been the one to cause it. Isaac thought it was funny and wanted to take the day off just to make sure none of the teachers marked him present. He had a point, which only annoyed Stiles. It was a Friday anyway so he took it as an excuse for a three day weekend to spend trying to figure out how to fix his dad. Everything was getting out of hand and corralling teen-sized adults was not something Stiles felt personally willing to do for the long-term.

"Deaton still doesn't know what to do about this stuff, and you have a game to get to," Casey reminded him that night.

"Slight correction: Stilinski, McCall and Lahey are suspended and won't be allowed to play," Stiles replied. The three suspended students were gathered in the McCall kitchen for dinner with the others and did not give the guilty parents a corner to hide in on that one. Stiles pointed to Scott and Isaac. "They can't even wear their jerseys because the faces won't match if the principal shows up. Coach is actually going to kill those two when he finds out. Co-captains. Suspended from the first match."

"We said we're sorry," said Casey. "And I am."

"I said I was sorry for turning you guys into kids, but that didn't exactly fix it," said Stiles. "And there has to be something to fix it. So those two go ride the bench tomorrow and I bug Deaton until we find something. Everything's all stacked up lies and screwed six ways from Sunday. I just want my dad back."

Stiles hadn't actually meant to say that out loud but there it was. He turned his attention to his food and started poking at it instead of the people around him. Just like that, he lost his appetite and handed the plate to his dad to finish since Casey hadn't gotten in the buffet line yet.

"When you're done I'll take you home," he said, quieter. "I'm gonna stay at Derek's."

"You know, maybe I have an opinion about _that_ ," said Casey. He was on edge from what Stiles had said, defensive. "Eighteen or not, you're still my kid."

"We'd have a hard time proving that right this second," replied Stiles. "And that's the problem. I'm not _even_ arguing about it. I'm staying at Derek's."

"I'm not sure he'll be there, pup," Talia offered up from the table. "He got a job at the grocery store on sixth, started today."

"What for?" Stiles had never considered that Derek would have to work; he had the loft, he had a car, and mostly he kept food and fuel in both. The assumption was that Derek was a trust-fund brat, but nobody had ever bothered to pry to know for certain.

"To help out the packs," said Talia. "It's Mel's pack that can't work, but it hits Scott's."

"But what about-" Stiles stopped short of asking about the house. If Derek was going to schlep groceries to help out, he must have factored his Mom's house into that somewhere. "Whatever. I'll figure it out before I leave."

Everyone left Stiles alone after that, at least for a little while. It was Allison who eventually went looking for him around sunset. She brought a sandwich out onto the porch for him and sat down next to him on the swing without being invited.

"I know they don't look like it, but I promise it's still our parents," she said, with her usual matter-of-fact dose of logic. She hesitated and then added, "Okay so they're not always acting like themselves either. But it is them."

"Peter's still acting like himself," said Stiles, bitter. "So I get it."

"Yeah, well, then _you_ act like it," Allison told him. Stiles looked over at her, offended. And she arched an eyebrow in clear challenge. "We get it. You did a spell and everything sucks now. But you didn't break the world. It was an accident. The usual brand of... Chaos that follows us around. Stop blaming yourself for it. You're not Derek, you don't do the whole... Internalized torment thing."

"But we could lose, like, everything," Stiles said, quiet. "Even if we fix it, there's so many lies... How are they supposed to get their jobs back? What if we lose the house because of it? That was my Mom's house-"

Stiles' ramble quieted when Allison grabbed his hand. She didn't say anything, just gave him a person to hold on to until he calmed down. He took a breath and started piecing at the sandwich, muttered a thank-you even if he could only stare at the porch floor because the worry had brought out the unnerving blue in his eyes.

"Look. I get it," said Allison. She was careful with her words, kept starting to say something and then drawing it back. Finally she stared at him until he had to look back. "But the stuff you're worried about? You're just scared. I have moved so many times. So many. I lost my- just. I get it and I'm telling you, Stiles, you get over it. Because a house is just walls and a roof. We still have our dads, even if they look a little funny, and there's the pack. We're pretty good at taking care of each other. That didn't change."

Her hard-won common sense settled into Stiles' head and he thought it over, quiet. The blue faded out and Allison noticed, squeezed his hand to encourage him.

"Yeah," he said finally. He sat up a little taller, squared his shoulders. "Okay. Sorry. I get it."

"Really?" Allison asked. He nodded, smiled a little.

"Thanks," he said. He let go of her hand. "I guess I needed some perspective."

Allison really had helped and she seemed to believe it. She didn't push him when he said he was good by himself for awhile. Stiles stayed on the porch, mentally rearranging all the little boxes in his head that framed how he looked at the world.

He was about to stand up and go inside when he saw lights swing onto the McCall's driveway behind Talia's SUV. Hoping it was Derek, Stiles stayed where he was to wait.

Instead, a familiar jerkwad in a suit rounded the edge of the car and headed for the porch. Stiles' jaw fell open slightly. Kyle McCall stood at the steps and stared at Stiles.

"What the hell is going on, Stiles?" Kyle asked. He sounded stressed and worried. "I left town for like three months! And now everyone's missing? Again?" He added as an afterthought, "And what are you doing out on the porch. Is Scott inside?"

Stiles could only swear. "Holy crap."

 

***

Scott looked up in sudden alarm. "Uh- my dad's here."

"Ky-oh crap!" Mel clapped a hand over her mouth and looked down at herself, then over at Casey. "He'll recognize us like this..."

"Out!" Casey started herding Mel out the back door, catching Talia as an afterthought. Scott chased after them.

"What am I supposed to do?!" he hissed at them from the doorway. Mel paused on the steps to look back, torn. She finally cringed and shook her head.

"Just lie. Stick with the story..."

The front door squawked open then and Scott startled, shut the back door and locked it for good measure. He wound up back in the kitchen, looking lost and anxious. Allison and Chris were just as uncomfortable. And then Kyle was calling through the house for him, checking the living room and then the kitchen. He stared at Scott a moment as though surprised to see him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I just heard about your mother..."

"Yeah, uh, I'm fine." Scott looked awkwardly to Allison even though she couldn't help him out. Stiles showed up in the door behind Kyle, concerned and watchful.

"Mom's with the Sheriff and Talia," Scott said. "She'll be fine."

"Yeah, we've seen before how fine she is with them," replied Kyle. Scott huffed in annoyance but didn't say anything. They had a lie to protect.

"We'll just... Leave you guys to catch up then," said Allison. Chris nodded and pressed her toward the foyer. Kyle blocked the way.

"Who's this?" he asked Allison.

"My cousin." The lie was easy because she was used to being defiant to Agent McCall. Scott tried not to grin. Stiles ran interference and dodged behind Kyle to catch Chris by the arm and lead them out into the foyer to the front door.

"It's fine," added Stiles, almost polite. "He's been here the whole time. He's not a conspirator or something."

"Where are you staying since this went down?" Kyle asked Stiles. Stiles stopped and stared, stumped like Kyle was talking Greek.

"It's been weeks, man," said Scott. It sounded like Kyle was trying to pull parent-status to boss Stiles into staying. " _You_ just found out but we've got a routine..."

Kyle looked to Scott, not impressed. "You're _kids_. You shouldn't be by yourselves until they're back."

"I'm a kid for less than a month," said Scott. "Stiles is eighteen. He's fine."

"I'm staying with Derek," said Stiles. "Scott knows where to find me if I'm needed."

"And Isaac's still living with us, so I haven't been alone," added Scott. "It's okay."

"Fine," said Kyle, not sold on the idea. Stiles started to follow the Argents out but Kyle snapped his fingers to get his attention back.

"Eighteen or not, plan on dinners here until this is sorted out. Someone needs to check up on you for your dad."

The order surprised Scott and Stiles, considering the source. Stiles reluctantly nodded. He left and Scott was left to stare down his dad.

"I read Parrish's report," said Kyle. "Do _you_ want to tell me what happened?"

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

Kyle wouldn't let Scott go to work before the game. He had to go right home from school and stay there until Kyle showed up to take him to the game. Stiles spent the day in Deaton's office, by himself in the storage room. They had emptied it out weeks ago so they didn't accidentally mess with it trying to come up with the cure for the parents. The last thing they needed was insta-grow kibble being fed to somebody's kitten just in for its shots.

It was warm so Stiles kept the big doors open and closed the space off with ash, just to be on the safe side. He worked with plants all morning, a whole pallet of them from the Home and Garden store. Right away he turned a healthy redwood with a trunk about three inches thick into just barely more than a sapling and decided to leave it be; maybe if he gave it some time in between hits the plants would survive. An old vine that was half sun-burned just shriveled up and fried out. He spent most of the morning trying to fix that plant and wore himself out. He crashed onto a pile of dog beds that Deaton kept around to sell and proceeded to take a nap. He was so out of it that he didn't move at all for two hours.

When Stiles did wake up it was because he felt something watching him and it ate into his dreams. He startled upright, looking around the storage area. It was still empty. But just outside in the parking lot stood the red headed old man that Stiles had described to the sheriffs department as being involved with the mythical kidnapping of the sheriff. He seemed older than he remembered but that didn't mean anything since Stiles had only ever seen him passing by out on the street before. Stiles scrambled to his feet.

"Hey, uh... Are you looking for someone?" Stiles asked. He pointed in the general direction of the main entrance. "The vet's office is over there."

"Did you do that?" The stranger pointed at the brown vines in the center of the floor. Stiles noticed he stayed just outside of the mountain ash boundary, which struck him as odd, and then looked in at the plants again.

"Uh..."

"You're just a boy and you did that?" the man said. He obviously already knew his answers.

"Uh... Plants die pretty frequently, I'm not sure what you mean," said Stiles.

"They also return to life around you," the stranger observed. "It is very curious. Very indeed."

"What can I say, green thumb," said Stiles. "Look, is there something you want here?"

"Only to see. Curiosity. I did not know humans were capable of renewed life."

"Well, those are plants, so... We're still not." Every " _weird-things!_ " alarm was going off in Stiles' head and he had his phone out to calmly type an SOS to Deaton without taking his eyes off the stranger. The man looked from Stiles to the ash line and then the plants again. He hummed, contemplating something, but did nothing more than tilt his head.

"Well. Good day then," he said. The man turned then and walked away. Stiles didn't send the SOS, just made sure the man left further than the parking lot. He closed the doors to the storage room before he went inside to soak up some air conditioning and ask Deaton about the visitor.

 

***

 

Game time was fast approaching and nobody had heard from Stiles in a few hours. Even that was only a text confirmation that he wasn't planning on going to the game. So, after blatantly abusing werewolf strength to all but kidnap the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, Scott and Isaac kept him cornered in the locker room by Stiles' locker. Scott shoved the familiar stinky jersey at Casey Stilinski. "Do it."

"But I am ninety-nine percent certain the coach is going to know I'm not my kid," said Casey.

"So? It's Coach. He's not going to pay attention," said Isaac. "Just keep the hood up, sit on the bench, and don't talk."

"Pretty sure Stiles is going to kill you for this," said Casey, even as he reluctantly started climbing into the gear that Scott was piling on.

"Stiles isn't here. He's suspended and can't play. You hold his place on the bench so Coach doesn't kick him off the team," Scott said. "It's simple. Just do it."

Casey let out a heavy sigh. His kid was going to murder him if he showed up to the game.

 

***

 

Casey sat on the bench with Scott and Isaac, far less anxious than either one of them. They wanted to play. They needed to play. Their team was getting trashed on the field without them. Coach kept glaring at them every time the other team scored a goal. Casey kept his head down, chewed on the gloves in his hand at random, and tried not to be noticed in general.

Coach kept looking up into the bleachers. Then, suddenly, one quarter in, he rushed up to Scott and started shouting.  
"In! On the field! Now! Before the idiot gets back!"

Scott and Isaac looked at each other, checked the stands, smiled as one and then rushed out onto the field. They were still fastening their helmets as they joined their team waiting to resume play. Casey kept his butt on the bench and pretended he didn't exist. Coach Finstock gave him a second glance, blinked and then traded his frustration with the game for frustration with his roster. He waved at Casey, obviously annoyed.

"I am not supposed have so damn many new faces on this roster," complained Coach. "I don't care if this is varsity. You're too damn old."

Casey took his time processing that the man meant him - the only person left on the bench - and then tried to channel his inner-Stiles. He sat up a little and managed a slight smile. "Aww, don't be like that coach..."

The coach glared at him. Casey mentally flailed a little.

"...Coach Cupcake?" he offered up hopefully.

Finstock narrowed his eyes and was probably about to call bullshit or get friendly, either option terrifying to Casey just then, when a whistle sounded from the field. His attention went back to the game and Stilinski - the wrong one for bench-guarding - breathed a little easier. He looked over his shoulder to the stands in a futile search for his son.

 

***

 

"Why is Stiles not here?" Melissa was somehow more anxious watching Casey on the bench than watching her son take the field. She had seen the latter take on fights with monsters; the dangers of lacrosse no longer bothered her. Casey, however...

Not to mention Kyle McCall sat five benches down from where she hid at the top. If he recognized that Casey wasn't the _right_ Stiles to be sitting on the bench, so much shit would hit some very big fans.

"Stiles spent all afternoon... Zapping things," muttered Derek beside her. "Deaton won't let him drive because he wore himself out."

Mel shoved his shoulder. "Then go get him. He can be worn out on the bench."

"Don't worry, Ms. M-Mel," said Lydia, momentarily awkward. She shrugged it off. "He'll just feed Stiles some sugar and everything will be fine."

Mel couldn't help but notice the funny look Derek aimed at Lydia but she refused to worry. For one thing, Stiles would be mad at her for worrying. For another, Casey was still stuck on the bench. For gods sake the bench shouldn't be that scary and Mel chewed on her sweater sleeve, conflicted.

 

***

 

Derek got tired of his shoulder being used as a human punching bag and finally relented to Mel's insistence that he go fetch Stiles. The _real_ one. He got to the parking lot to see Stiles tripping out of the jeep in a questionably legal parking spot.

"How bad is it?" Stiles asked him. Derek furrowed his brow, more concerned with how drained Stiles looked.

"I should ask you that," he replied. Stiles let him steal a hug and subtle sniff to reassure Derek that he was alright. Stiles' eyes glowed briefly blue at the edges and he was possibly mocking him for it but he didn't argue. He pressed Derek for a kiss and they dallied in the parking lot a minute quite happily just saying hello. Sounds from the game distracted them. Stiles went right back on point.

"Did Coach let Scott play?" he asked. "Am I kicked off the team?"

"Not exactly..." Derek wasn't sure what to warn him about first. They came around the end of the bleachers and Stiles headed for the bench, intent to talk to the coach from the looks of it, so Derek caught his arm and steered him toward the stands instead.

"What- Jeeezzus!" Stiles saw his dad look over at them from the bench then and he all but climbed in Derek's jacket trying to keep from being seen. The jacket was used as a shield because Stiles didn't know the meaning of the word _inconspicuous_ and they somehow made it to the top of the stands without tripping over each other. Lydia looked like she couldn't tell if she wanted to lecture him for it or laugh, Allison _was_ laughing, and Mel looked about to have kittens.

"Why is he up here?" she hissed at Derek. Derek stared back at her - how was _any_ of this his fault, exactly? - and shrugged the question off as rhetorical. Mel huffed and leaned across the girls to poke at Stiles. "Go save your father!"

"How!" Stiles pointed to the coach and by then he had spotted Agent McCall so he added him to the list of obstacles. "I'll make a bigger mess if I'm seen down there..."

Mel was not settled at all. Allison frowned and patted her shoulder in an effort at consoling.

"It'll be okay. Coach never puts me in anyway," said Stiles. Derek nodded to help sell it.

"At practice he actually made him _practice_ sitting and _not_ playing," he added.

"Yeah, that. Thanks," Stiles replied, half miserable at the reminder. Mel looked a little pale but she nodded finally and left Stiles alone.

"Why did we come?" Derek heard Lydia whisper to Allison. "This was a terrible idea."

They had about two minutes of peace. Then one of the BH boys in red on the field took a shoulder to the gut. He went down like a sack of potatoes. Finstock barked at the Stilinski on the bench. Stiles and Mel both stood up and started having public heart attacks behind all the other Beacon Hills fans standing up and booing the bad form from the Other Team.

"No-no-no-no! Bench him, Coach! You keep me- _HIM_ on the bench!" Stiles shouted. Beside the girls, Mel added in a "Don't you _dare_!" at the top of her lungs.

Derek looked over and saw Talia and Chris actually laughing. He had to catch Stiles by the belt to keep him from running down and interrupting the game, which strangely left Derek fighting laughter too. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind just to keep him leashed.

"He'll be fine," Derek said in Stiles' ear. "Scott and Isaac won't let him get killed."

Stiles made a few fitful efforts to pry Derek loose but by then he saw his dad out on the field. He almost whined. "Fine. But who's gonna keep him from running the wrong damn way?"

At the other end of the row, Talia let out another laugh and collapsed against Chris to keep from falling off the bench.

 

***

 

Scott grinned at Casey, safe behind his gear and mask from whatever the sheriff wanted to send his way. He thumped Casey on the helmet with the end of the stick. “You can do this.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” replied Casey. Scott nudged his shoulder and made the newest teammate look over at him before the whistle resumed play.

“There’s no lying in lacrosse, Stilinski,” said Scott. “You play. We kick ass. Everybody goes home a winner.”

The pep talk seemed to make it through and Casey pulled his mask down and fumbled getting it set. Isaac looked over at Scott from Casey’s other shoulder.

“Winners get tail when they get home,” Isaac pointed out. “Your mom is up there freaking out right now. Are you sure that’s really the scenario you want to set up?”

There was no way to tell if Casey was blushing under the lights but Isaac was smiling like he had just gotten away with something. Scott stood up and pointed at his friend. “When we win this, I’m kicking your ass,” he said. Then he looked to Casey soberly. “And you get nowhere near my mom’s tail.”

The whistle went off then and Casey seemed to take it as an excuse to get away from Scott trying to tell him what to do. That wasn’t fair at all in Scott’s book, since he was the only alpha on the field and could flatten Casey just as easily as a twenty year old as he could when the sheriff was forty-something. Instead, he and Isaac just had to try to keep the game away from Stilinski, now in the interests of both team pride and Scott’s general stubbornness about Isaac making yo-mamma jokes at him.

 

***

 

Up in the stands, Melissa was screaming with Allison and Lydia. Stiles might have tried it but Derek still hung on to him to keep him from doing anything stupid. But from where Talia stood, it looked like Casey was doing alright for an old man trying to remember what it felt like to be a kid on the team. Mel was definitely getting into the girlfriend-in-the-bleachers mode, once she got over the horror of expecting the sheriff of Beacon Hills to get body-checked by teenagers half his age. Physically, on that field, Casey had the advantage. He kept up with Scott and Isaac and didn’t embarrass himself too badly at all. The Beacon Hills score started climbing again.

Talia cheered with the others but she was buried under noise and sensory overload like she hadn’t felt in quite literally years. She looked to Derek as a gauge of if she was being over sensitive to it all but that was no help, since he was paying attention to Stiles and watching what Stiles watched, focused probably on a heartbeat more than the yelling around them. It wasn’t a bad idea and Talia looked over at Chris instead. He wasn’t as active as the rest of the crowd, but he was worried about Casey on the field too. He still felt her attention and looked over at Talia, offered a grin. She nudged his arm.

“Think he’s going to survive this?” she asked, teasing. Chris glanced out at the field briefly before giving a thoughtful nod of agreement.

“Good odds,” he said. Talia folded her hand into his.

“Got any money on the score?” The question was another challenge and Chris raised an intrigued eyebrow. He shook his head. Talia cast a short glance at Mel before she leaned into Chris’ shoulder to push him out into the aisle to abandon their post at the top of the bleachers. “Then let me show you something.”

Chris seemed game and the pair trotted down the stairs, right past Agent McCall without being noticed. They headed for the forest and, Talia realized with a thrill, she could hear Chris’ heartbeat clear and strong over the noise as it faded. The unarmed hunter was as happy to chase the wolf as she was to lead him out into the dark and whatever trouble they could find there unseen.

 

***

 

By the end of the game, the opposing team had figured out that Stilinski was the unknown in the rest of the team. He was brought in as a replacement and didn’t know his position and Scott wanted to kill him when he screwed up and went offsides just before a play. He wasn’t passed to, he wasn’t as aggressive as the others and he screwed up and gave them the advantage a couple of times. Stilinski wasn’t on anybody’s radar when the score got tight. Scott and Isaac were the strongest runners on the field, their coordination with the ball was ridiculously unfair, and they were easy targets. Suddenly, with the opposition playing heavy offense, Scott realized Stilinski was their best asset. He set him up three times, and two of them were successful. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough. Beacon Hills took the lead and from that point on it was easy enough to scramble the field and run out the clock.

And then somehow Stilinski ended up in the right place at the right time, through pure dumb luck or the man catching on to the pace of the game. Scott and Isaac were pinned on opposite sides of the field with players stacked around them like bowling pins as the captain of the other team got the ball and sent it flying toward the Beacon Hills goal. Casey got in the way, fumbled the ball enough that it didn’t go anywhere near its target, and sent it back toward Danny. The clock ran out with the ball in the air and Beacon Hills up by one.

Scott damn near howled, he was so relieved they had survived the game and come out ahead. Isaac and Danny attacked him in a celebratory hug as the adrenaline wore down. The teams settled down, started to line up, Coach praising Scott on a certain-death-well-avoided. Then coach took a headcount as the sides started wandering past each other amidst their “Good game” and “Nice shot, loser,” greetings.

“Damnit, where’d Stilinski go now?” Coach announced. It was enough to startle Scott and he looked around the field. He spotted Derek dropping his jacket over Stiles’ head as a terrible disguise and then followed Derek’s gaze a few feet to the side to where Casey Stilinski had been pounced on by Melissa McCall like they were in some stupid Ryan Gosling movie; the helmet rolled on the ground and the hot girl was hoisted in his arms and attached to his face.

“Come on!” complained Scott. He swiped at the back of Isaac’s head since it was probably his fault for making that crack at the start of the game.

“Stilinski! It’s not freakin’ regionals!” Coach called over to them. “Sportsmanship! Come on!”

Casey and Mel looked back at them, the both of them obviously proud of Casey for having survived. Stiles stood miserably with his face hidden under a coat and completely unreadable for it, but it looked like his arms were crossed. Derek was just amused. Scott forgave his mom for breaking out onto the field like an idiot and was happy to just smile for a moment. Then Isaac nudged his elbow and muttered, “Oh shit.” Scott looked over at him and then followed his attention to where Kyle McCall was making his way down the bleachers, attention on Mel and Casey and not on Scott out on the field. Scott’s happy moment disappeared really fast.

“Oh. Crap.”

 

***


	11. Chapter 11

“You realize it’s pitch black out here?” Chris’ voice betrayed only an idle amusement and his usual caution. He still held Talia’s hand and when she brushed close he caught her hips and followed behind her. It was safer for him to trace her steps when she could see just fine in the moonlight. She loved every slight touch for all the trust they silently conveyed, the acceptance from someone who not so long ago was completely baffled by Talia’s existence. And they worked together well, either just the two of them like now, alone and exploring, or with the others and looking out for a couple of unruly packs.

"I can see you fine," said Talia, half teasing and half distracted.

"I'm just a little concerned for whatever it is you wanted me to see," replied Chris. "Since I, well... Can't."

"You'll see when we get there. No trees there," she said.

"That narrows it down, actually," said Chris. He almost sounded concerned that time. Talia quirked an eyebrow but didn't dive into it.

"It's not a guessing game, Chris," she said. "You'll see it when you see it. For now, just enjoy the walk."

They weren't far from their destination and Chris kept up. Half the time he kept his hands in her jeans pockets and that slowed them down considerably but neither complained. When they got there, they were rumpled and grinning and even Chris blinked at the wash of uninterrupted moonlight in the clearing they had found. His smile faded.

"Your house," he said. He was quick for an old man. There was nothing more than a wide clearing, a long restored driveway and the cement pad to someday hold a house.

"Well, the foundation anyway," said Talia. "It's been sitting a few weeks now."

"You didn't tell me you had started building." Chris let go of her for the first time in over a mile and walked out onto the cement pad in the middle of the clearing. It was massive and made him look especially small.

"I didn't," said Talia. "That's why I love it, and I don't give a damn how much of a softie I am for it." She joined him and looked around. A few trees had been cut back, new ones planted, all in an effort to change the shape of everything around the house. She caught Chris looking at her, expectantly, and flashed a grin. "Derek's been working on it. It's why Cora got her job. She wants to help out, I think."

"You think?" asked Chris. "They didn't tell you or check any of it..."

Talia shook her head. "I only found out about it because Derek went to a family friend for the foundation work. He called me with a question about it and didn't know it was Derek's doing."

"This is huge, Talia. They can't do this on their own," Chris said.

"They're apparently going to try," she replied with a shrug. "Derek won't talk about Laura much. But he said they did well working construction jobs. No one questioned their ages, so long as they did the work. He mentioned once that it doesn't take long to get the walls up when people want to work."

She pointed to the frame wood stacked up on one end of the foundation pad. Chris stared at the small mountain of 2x4.

"This... Surprises me," he admitted. "Easily the last thing I would have expected. From either of them, if I'm honest."

"If Cora were willing to do the work, I would be surprised," Talia said. She looked around, her eyes cast down at the cement under their feet, on the lookout for something she had started puzzling out the last time she had come up. "But Derek's proven to be much the same as I remember. A little harder on the edges and hurt. But he tries. He sees things through and he's still stubborn. I should have expected this from the moment I decided to tear the old one down." Talia shook her head at herself. "The old house was dying. He couldn't save it, no one would let him. But open land with no house on it? That's unfinished business."

"He probably sees a debt, too," said Chris. He looked around, sobered. Talia nodded.

"That's why I'm letting the two of them work it out. I'm in no hurry," she said. "It's a house."

Chris stared around the wide space a long moment. He wouldn't look at Talia as he asked, "Do you think he'd let me help?"

 

***

 

There was no sneaking this one under the wire. No blaming non-existent bad guys. Melissa McCall stared up at her former husband with the face he had married her for, young and energetic and doe-eyed for the bad-boys. Except she clung to someone else's arm and Kyle McCall looked like he was going into his 40s a little better off than he left his 20s.

"No, I can't explain," Melissa said, the only thing she could think to.

"Too bad," said Kyle. "You're damn well going to try."

Stiles happened to be standing nearest to Kyle, the jacket over his head still to hide him from coach and avoid awkwardness. Kyle tugged it off his head and shoved it and him toward the parking lot.

"Everybody, move," the agent said in his most authoritative voice. Stiles put up his usual flail and protest at being manhandled and Derek and Casey both jumped to interfere, a little too triggery for the FBI Agent's sudden involvement in their lives. It was all Mel could do to hang on to Casey and keep him back, and Scott showed up in time to deflect Derek.

"Dad! What -"

"Don't try it, Scott," said Kyle. He pointed to Melissa and Casey. "You lied. All of you. Stiles filed a report-"

"He kinda had to-" Scott broke off at the glare he got from his dad. Mel panicked a little inside. This was going so badly. She looked around the field at the gathered players and parents still lingering and the line of them headed out for pizzas and celebrations like normal post-game families did. Something she wanted so badly for her son but knew better than to hope for. They had bigger concerns and Kyle McCall had just jumped to the top of the list. Melissa broke from Casey to latch on to Kyle's arm.

"We'll explain at the house. You ride with Derek and Stiles back-" she began, only to be predictably interrupted.

"What!" echoed Stiles and Derek both. Melissa flashed them a glare.

"I have to go find Talia and Chris. Alright? We'll meet you at my house," she said. "Keep an eye on things."

"No," said Kyle. "You're not leaving my sight until I know what the hell is going on."

Melissa looked up at him and let the anger color her eyes. "I'll tell you when I have all the answers in one spot," she said carefully. "So just go with them."

Not surprisingly, Kyle didn't argue after that. Melissa grabbed her son's arm and steered him toward the locker room. "You. Hurry up. I'm gonna need your nose to track the other two down."

 

***

 

The request to visit the tree while they were out was an odd one but Talia didn't question it and she saw them safely to the nemeton's remains. Chris had taken to checking on the tree since the problem in winter. Since they were in the area, it made sense.

"I keep thinking we should take it out, like the Winchester boys suggested," Chris told her. "But I can't find anything to say what would happen if we do."

Talia's mood darkened almost instantly. Her fingers tightened against his as they walked toward the glen.

"No, Chris. Don't touch the tree," she said. "You don't know what you're doing. It isn't safe. Not for whoever touches the tree, not for anyone in Beacon Hills."

"It's just a tree," said Chris. "Yes, it has power, but that's from the creatures who gave it power. It's... A conduit."

That stung a little and Talia gave a sad smile at the careless reminder. She eased into her own space and crossed her arms. "It's an _old_ tree. An old conduit. Power attracts power. It balances out. And without the neutral balance of the tree, the creatures of this area and further out would be crushed."

Chris frowned at her in the dark. "How do you know?"

Talia looked back at him, the grin tugging sarcastically at her lips. "How old do you think I am, Chris?"

"Right now?" he asked. He shrugged and grinned back. "Twenty something."

Talia rolled her eyes. "High schoolers." She shook her head and waved it off, tucked her hands in her pockets as she considered the situation. "I'm old enough to have seen things and talked to people you don't know exist. And that's not to be cryptic. That's just the easiest way to explain it. Hunters don't know everything about the trees. The creatures, as you put it, don't. We can't possibly. They're just trees. And that is for the best."

"I didn't mean-" Chris dropped off on his own, seeing suddenly why she had pulled away. And, from the expression on his face, reevaluating what it was he had really meant. He closed off then, just as Talia had done and she sighed, nodded. That was the hard part, when the hunters heard the dog whistle and all their training returned to the surface.

"Don't worry about it," she said. She was too used to it to really be bothered. "Just keep what I said in mind. Don't touch the tree. The nemeton will take care of itself and our job is to make sure it can."

"Our job?" Chris asked, suspicious. Talia arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well, anyone who doesn't want to see this valley and surrounding area overpowered by forces beyond all control," she said. "I'm just assuming that's in our mutual interest."

Chris nodded, accepting. Talia's cell phone rang just as they reached the clearing with the tree, sufficient distraction from the awkwardness that had fallen between them. Chris went on to investigate the nemeton while Talia hung back to deal with Melissa.

"Where are you?" the alpha demanded.

"Uh. The nemeton. What's wrong?" Talia asked. She looked around automatically for Chris.

"My idiot ex husband is an annoying idiot who sticks his idiot nose where idiots don't belong," Melissa complained. "So now we have to figure out what to tell him. I want all of us there so we'll pick you up-"

By then Talia stood beside Chris, seeing more clearly what he did in the center of the moonlit clearing and yet sharing a sudden sense of dread that had nothing to do with Melissa's idiot ex husband.

"Uh. That's fine," she said quietly. "But you need to get here fast. I think we've got something bigger to worry about than Agent McCall."

Beside her, Chris laughed darkly. "A lot bigger."

"Are you kidding? Oh my god will this day just- fine. We're on our way now, I'll call you when we're close."

Talia hung up without another word, too fixed on the sight in front of her. Where there should have been the nemeton was a pile of limbs and sticks and moss. Scraps of material and straw and what looked like animal skins peeked out from the haphazard, cluttered structure. The moonlight made the whole thing glow just slightly. The nemeton stump was by itself a good three feet off the ground normally. This pile of sticks and fluff went up another two feet more.

"What is this?" Chris asked, cautious. Talia shook her head. She could only guess. She reached forward to touch one of the redwood limbs jutting out of the woven sides. Chris put a hand on her arm to keep her back and away from it. She glanced at him and then stepped back to appease him.

"I'm not sure," she said. "It looks almost like a nest."

Chris frowned at the pile of sticks. "But isn't this where the nemeton should be? I was only here last week..."

"Yes. It's over the tree. That's the base," she said. She knelt down and shuffled away some leaves and forest debris until she found one of the crawling roots. She held up her cellphone as a flashlight to show him. Chris held out a hand to pull her back upright and lead her away from it.

"Any idea what in the name of god needs a nest six feet in diameter?" he asked. Talia could only shake her head. They retreated to the treeline around the glen and she stood staring at the nemeton, her arms crossed. She didn't have the first clue.

 

***


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles let himself into the McCall house just as he had done a few hundred times before. This time he did it just to piss off the local patriarchy. Derek followed after him and the pair were chased inside by the lights from Agent McCall's headlamps as his car pulled in to the drive, so they left the door open just to piss him off.

"This is so screwed," said Stiles. He and Derek retreated to the kitchen as neutral ground. He poked at Derek's shoulder, halfheartedly accusing. "Your stupid alpha is gonna get me killed."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "My stupid alpha?"

"Yeah, you started it. You and Peter, recognizing her as alpha instead of just Scott's mom."

"Really? You're going back a year to dig out of this one?"

"Not a year."

"Oh, I'm sorry, nine months," said Derek. He rolled his eyes. "Nobody's gonna die."

Stiles stared at him. An FBI agent strolled into the room then, looking quite pissed off. Stiles pointed at him as a self-evident illustration. Derek shook his head at the dramatics. He waved toward Kyle.

"So shrink him if you're worried about it," he said.

"Excuse me?" said Kyle.

"Shrink - whose side are you on?" Stiles talked over the man, attention on Derek.

"Uh, that depends, since I didn't know we had sides on this," said Derek.

"We have our side and his side and you're taking his side but that doesn't make it our side."

"You're gonna have to explain that one."

Stiles stalled out then. It had worked out in the car on the way over, they had it planned. The fed couldn't try to talk to them if they were arguing. That was the plan. And now, when he was _trying_ to argue for once in his life, Stiles ran out of ammo. He had nothing. Derek's expression was his usual mask, the one he hid behind when Stiles was going to make him laugh, except in this case it wasn't laughter. It was his " _we had a goddamn plan and you're screwing it up!_ " face that peeked out.

Stiles' brain got stuck in the strangest places. He tilted his head, staring at Derek as they both very determinedly ignored the agent waiting for an explanation.

"Wait," he said. "It's been nine months since Tahoe?"

Derek was caught by surprise by the change in direction.

"Yes," he said, at the same time as Kyle.

"But what the hell does Tahoe have to do with my ex wife looking like she did the day I married her?" McCall added, clearly annoyed.

"Shut up," said Derek and Stiles both. Derek looked at him again and Stiles grinned. Derek's shoulders stiffened subtly, his tell when he was worried. When he knew Stiles was about to do something that would likely ruin his life and he knew he was just going to roll with it _anyway_. Stiles really loved that he could read his werewolf boyfriend so damn well without having to cheat and rely on super-senses.

"Nine months," Stiles repeated. "You realize if you weren't such a prude we could totally have puppies by now?"

"Oh my god..." Derek just barely managed to avoid going bug-eyed.

"What the hell-" said McCall. Stiles rolled his hand at his side in a hint. Derek noticed and backed off a step, shaking his head.

"No. Here's the problem, Stiles," he said. He waved at McCall, again like the man wasn't standing there staring at them like a fish. "He has no idea what you're talking about. And I am very glad he doesn't because I guarantee you, _you_ have no idea what you're talking about."

Glad to see Derek catching on, Stiles' smile turned something unholy. He reached out and caught Derek's shirt front, tugging him close into an absolutely unignorable kiss. Right there in front of the nosy federal agent who had never been read-in on the relationship status of Scott's friends. It was good for the element of surprise. Kyle was red faced by the time Stiles broke away from Derek's face. Derek was intrigued. Stiles didn't let go of his shirt and headed for the hallway.

"I want to try for puppies. Back later," he said to the agent. He was too busy running up the stairs to get _away_ from Derek for the public puppy jokes to figure out if McCall heard them or not. They made it into Scott's room and slammed the door.

"What the-"

"Shh!" Stiles hung by the door with his ear to it. No footsteps followed them up the stairs.

"He doesn't _know_ anything, Stiles," Derek said, hissing more than speaking. "What the hell were you doing with the puppy bullcrap?"

Stiles locked the door and then, just for good measure, propped Scott's desk chair under the knob too. Then he looked to Derek.

"I shrunk Melissa and my dad, okay? He _knows_ them. We have no way of explaining that. None. We have to tell him. And I promise you, if I'm going down on record as some kind of potential government experiment lab rat, I am not going down without guard dogs in play to make sure I _don't_ turn into one," he said. "So we tell him I did it. And _then_ we tell him if he does anything about it, there's a couple packs of werewolves who'll tear him to shreds."

Stiles aimed for absolute innocence in the quiet solution to their problem. Or rather, at least, _his_ problem.

"McCall won't turn you into a lab rat," said Derek finally. He was still disgruntled. Puppy-making was definitely not in the cards in the immediate future. Stiles shook his head.

"No way, man," he said. "That man hates me. It is completely mutual. And come on. My dad is dating his ex wife. Give him _any_ excuse..."

Derek stared at him. "I'm considering the lab rat route, honestly," he said finally. "Is there like a hotline or something? _Help, a wannabe Druid shrunk my mother-_ "

Stiles took sass as an open invitation to shut him up as a way to kill time until their back-up arrived.

The agent left them alone for a full hour.

 

***

 

There was a flashlight in the toolbox of the old jeep that had been confiscated in order to send Stiles with Derek and Kyle. A half hour later, thanks to that accidentally insightful parental decree, bright white light beamed along the sticks and yard-waste debris covering the nemeton's massive tree stump. They were a day away from a full moon but under the trees it was full dark and the flashlight was needed for the non-wolves of the company.

"Has anyone checked under it?" Casey asked. "Make sure there's nobody making sacrifices to the roots again?"

"Not at night without a weapon and some light," said Chris. Casey held out his flashlight.

"Knock yourself out," he offered. Chris stared at him in mild annoyance.

"You're the sheriff," he pointed out. Casey nodded.

"And you're the hunter. You think I'd know what to look for?" he replied. Talia silently took the flashlight from him and headed to find the storm doors that hid the entrance to the ritual site. Chris sighed and followed after her. Casey stayed topside with Melissa and Scott while Isaac and his cat-like curiosity followed the other two.

"Did Talia say what it was?" Scott asked, quiet. Melissa shook her head. Without the flashlight's help, she felt blind so she put her hands out to start touching the construction around the tree stump.

Casey, still smelling like the game and the woods around them, caught her up from behind and pulled her away from it.

"Would you not with the touching things..." he grumbled at her.

"It looks like a nest or something," Melissa said. "What's it going to do?"

"How should I know that?" Casey replied, defensive. "I'm just saying let's not find out, okay?"

Melissa scrunched her nose but kept her hands to herself.

"If this is a nest," Scott said. He was thinking out loud. "What kind of animal is that big that it needs a nest this big?"

"And where are the eggs?" Casey added.

"Oh god. Something that big with babies," said Melissa. She looked to Scott accusingly. "Does this have anything to do with that selkie you guys dispatched without us?"

Scott shook his head. "No way. That thing wasn't this big. At all. Otherwise we wouldn't have tried it."

"Should we dismantle it?" asked Casey. Melissa shook her head as she considered the mess of branches and ripped up tree roots and dead animal skins.

"No. It'll just build a new one. Here we at least know where it is to watch it," she said. This was so the last problem they needed.

 

***


	13. Chapter 13

The house was suspiciously quiet when they walked through the front door. Melissa had half expected world war three when she had sent her ex off with his anti-fan club president. So the quiet was disturbing.

They were met at the door by Kyle. He looked his usual state of pissed off. He and his questions were about to start in before they had all gotten in the house and Mel raised a hand to hold him off.

"Where are Stiles and Derek?" she asked instead. Kyle went a shade pink.

"Making puppies, whatever the hell that means and I sure as hell don't want to know-"

"Stiles!" Melissa yelled at the stairs. Just as frustrated at the report, Talia added in a hearty, "Derek Hale!"

Kyle stared at Talia in confusion. "Would somebody tell me-"

"Go wait in the living room," Melissa told him, surprisingly authoritative for a seventeen year old female. Casey started reluctantly for the stairs but Talia caught his arm. She said she heard the door so the boys were on their way. A moment later Stiles and Derek were trotting down the stairs toward them. Casey glared at his disheveled but fully dressed son.

"What?" Stiles asked, apparently confused. Talia crossed her arms and glared at Derek.

"Making puppies?" Before her question was fully complete Derek pointed an accusing finger at Stiles and shrugged off all guilt.

"Ohmygod it was a joke," said Stiles. "I didn't want to deal with Agent Blobfish over there. It worked. He left us alone. Puppies win."

Talia and Mel both looked at Derek, silently asking " _why. Just, why._ " Mel gave up when Derek just looked back at her, unconcerned, and Stiles somehow managed to be confused and smug at the same time.

"Everybody. Living room. Now," said Melissa. Casey, all twenty two years of him, caught Stiles by the back of the neck to steer his son into the other room.

"Boys can't make puppies," Melissa heard him say, quietly annoyed.

"No, but we can try," came the shameless response.

" _Werewolves_ don't make puppies," Talia told them, hissing more than talking. Derek chimed in with, "no, but we can try," and Talia thwapped him upside the back of the head. Isaac and Allison trailed in behind the group and seemed amused enough that Chris reached up and smacked him in the back of the head just to be safe. The kids dispersed out of smacking range and Kyle intentionally kept his distance from Derek and Stiles.

"Stop encouraging them," Melissa told him. Kyle blinked at her.

"Start telling me what's going on," he said. He waved at where she stood across the coffee table from him and pointed her attention to the mirror on the wall. "In case you somehow missed it, you're seventeen. And, notably, not kidnapped as _someone_ reported to the sheriff's office-"

"My dad made me do that," said Stiles. "Don't even go after me for lying to a cop because I was just following orders..."

"This isn't the military, that doesn't save you a damn thing," Kyle said, snappish. "My point remains: What happened here?"

"An accident," said Melissa. "And we're still trying to figure out how to fix it or if it even can be fixed."

"An _accident_ involves a car," said Kyle. "Or pregnancies. Or any number of things that aren't this."

"It was," Scott said. He stood by Stiles, between his friend and his father out of long custom at this point. Just like Melissa was careful to keep herself - tiny as she currently was - between Casey and Kyle.

"Nobody was supposed to get zapped at all. It was just an accident. And the result is that Casey and I and Chris and Talia, we kind of... Shrank."

A polite cough drew people's attention to the hall where Peter stood, beer in hand borrowed from the McCall's fridge. Melissa sighed and waved.

"Peter did too," she said.

"It was entirely malicious," drawled Peter.

"It was not!" came the chorus from half the room's occupants.

"It was an accident," Melissa repeated.

"That is a suspiciously large number of accidents, Melissa," said Kyle.

"He didn't mean anything by it, it wasn't intentional, ergo it was an accident," said Melissa.

"Who he?" Kyle asked. Melissa shut her mouth, frustrated. She hadn't meant to get into that side of things.

"Accident, Kyle. It doesn't matter. Okay?" she said.

"What's important here is that you help us out instead of off a cliff now that you know about it," added Casey.

"You haven't told me anything I can't see for myself," said Kyle. "So tell me what did this and tell me it's no longer a problem to anyone else."

Casey jumped forward and Melissa shoved him back. That was enough of a clue and Kyle looked from Casey to Stiles, surprise clear on his face.

"Are you kidding me?"

"We told you it was an accident," said Scott, defensive. Mel noted approvingly that he had taken up a more obvious stance against his father at that. It would forever warm her heart but she would never admit to it. She and Chris managed to strong arm Casey into sitting down while Scott told Kyle about Stiles saving the old wisteria vine and his and Isaac's roughhousing getting in the way. For the longest time, Kyle just stared at Stiles, a new assessment forming while the teenager, true to form, stared back in defiance. Nobody was expecting it when Kyle shook his head and pointed Stiles out.

"Show me what you did," he said. Seeing that the demand was serious, Stiles laughed at him.

"What? Are you crazy?"  
  
Kyle grabbed a plant off the windowsill and put it on the coffee table. "Show me what you did."  
  
"Kyle, don't be stupid," said Melissa.

"Scott just told you what happened, you don't need proof," said Talia. The federal agent in the room disagreed. He kept up his staring contest with Stiles.

"Prove it. Otherwise you and I head to the office and you can tell them you lied in that report," said Kyle. "The report that has so far wasted hundreds of hours of manpower _nation-wide_ searching for a _kidnapped_ sheriff. Who obviously isn't."

Casey wanted to strangle a federal agent in her living room and Melissa really felt like helping but she instead sat down quickly in his lap to keep his ass on the couch. Behind him, Talia rested her hands on his shoulders and added a little supernatural force to the hint. Mel looked over at Stiles.

"Can you show him?" she asked, tired. "Just to make him shut up."

"This isn't actually a party trick," Stiles complained. "It doesn't work that way. It's... It's like an energy exchange and what I put into it I have to get from somewhere and-"

Talia cleared her throat as a careful interruption.

"Stiles," she said. "Were you _really_ upstairs attempting to make puppies?"

Derek had the good grace to blush. Stiles gaped at her.

"Well. Yeah I mean _no not really it's there's a lot more to it than-_ "

"I _am_ killing you later," Derek said under his breath.

"I'm helping," added Casey. Talia made another bid for Stiles' attention now that he had thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of everyone.

"That will do the trick, Stiles. Just try so we can shut the man up," she requested, still painfully polite.

"Oh."

Derek squared his shoulders and looked to Stiles, expecting him to live up to whatever they had done while the rest of them had been scouting out a tree. There was an odd look that passed between Stiles and Scott then, lighting up every one of Melissa's mental alarm bells. Her son had his back to Kyle but Melissa could see his expression plain enough. And she saw when the switch flipped in Stiles' head from refusal to try to a ready eagerness.

"Fine. I'll show you," he said. Melissa realized the problem then. There was no way to know what Stiles aimed his magic Druid voodoo at. He didn't use a wand. He raised his hands to help himself focus but they didn't point at anything.

"Stiles..." Casey said from behind her, still pinned. Even though it sounded like he was concerned about the same thing she was, Mel was afraid to stand and let him up. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally interrupt the line of magic-sight and get herself reduced to diapers. The state of the potted flower on the coffee table didn't change.

"So far I'm not impressed, Stiles," said Kyle. "And what I'm seeing is a room full of liars with _that one_ at the head of it."

Melissa looked up and actually squeaked. Her son looked way too much like his father suddenly. Melissa wanted to change genetics just because she had tried so hard to keep her son from being anything at all like his father. And yet there was the proof. Scott stared at Kyle, bug eyed and surprised to find he stood next to a teenaged version.

"Uh, Kyle?" came Chris' voice. Mel looked up to see him smirking. "I think you might see your way to a mirror before you come to any particular conclusions."

From the hallway, Peter offered up a slow clap of appreciation. Derek and Scott took very obvious defensive positions between Kyle and Stiles at the other end of the coffee table.

It wasn't until Stiles' expression gave away his smug pride at a trick well done that Kyle bothered to believe Chris. He sought out a reflective surface before realizing that his jacket and shirt bagged at the shoulders and slouched low below his belt. Which no longer fit.

"Holy. Shit."

"We told you," said Scott. He was slightly in awe - go figure, both of his parents were now younger than him - but grinning and obviously proud of his friend's abilities. "It was an accident. He was aiming at the plant and it didn't go where it was supposed to. It's magic, not science."

"Actually they're not that much different but- shutting up now." Stiles' ramble silenced quickly as Kyle's much-younger eyes narrowed into a glare.

"It was an _accident_ ," Melissa said. She stood up then and tried to catch Kyle's attention away from the resident Druid. "We're still figuring it out."

"Now welcome to the club," said Chris.

"And good luck convincing anybody that my son lied about anything," added Casey. He stood up but stayed back rather than risk provoking the agent. "Your face doesn't match your badge anymore either. So no one will know where the lies start out."

"Your son-" Kyle broke off as his surprise turned to anger and notched up. He looked to Casey, pointed off toward Stiles. "That little asshole who did this to me?"

He didn't physically move but he didn't have to; the threat was there. Derek and Scott both snarled, their eyes glowed, and claws came out. The blue even flashed at the edge of Stiles' brown. The three together was enough to catch Kyle's attention and he stood down, jaw slack as he stared.

"There's stuff going on we just can't explain, Kyle," Melissa said. Kyle looked over at her and then stumbled back, alarmed further. Melissa realized then her own eyes had done the weird red glowing thing and she sighed. She didn't bother to hide it. "Don't threaten the kids. Don't threaten anyone in this room. If you wouldn't listen before, at least now you understand."

"It's a freakshow in here. What am I supposed to understand?" he asked.

"Maybe now that you're one of the freaks," said Casey. "Just like you were before you ran up against something you couldn't explain and _it won_. So maybe, just maybe, it would do you some good to stop being a jerk and to help instead of argue."

"We're trying to figure it out, okay?" Stiles said. To his credit he had stopped gloating. And seemed to realize he had just weaponized himself, based on the rather green pallor. "We think it's fixable. I'm still trying."

Kyle, young and looking like a nerd who had borrowed his dad's clothes and _goddamnit looking way too much like Scott_ , scowled at the Druid. Finally he nodded.

"Work _harder_ ," he said. But some of the fire had gone out.

"There's beer in the fridge now," Peter offered up. "Want some?"

"Got anything stronger?" Kyle asked. Peter shook his head.

"Nope and I've been asking for a month," said Peter, his usual overly dramatic self. "You want anything like that you'd probably have to make puppies with my nephew."

 

***

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

And that's how the McCall house ended up with one more teenager under it's roof. The teenaged versions of Talia and Chris then made plans to stay with Mel and Casey that night and the actual teens all scattered to their various corners. Allison apparently retreated to Lydia's and more or less refused to leave for the foreseeable future. Exactly why, she wouldn't say, but Stiles had put together some good guesses all his own on that one. Derek tried to knock them down but it was a touchy subject; Allison saw Scott and his dad like Stiles had somehow confused Derek and his mom, and that was a conversation Derek just didn't want to have again. If Stiles believed Allison was hiding because he couldn't get the Druid-thing under control, Derek was too _grateful_ to correct him on it. But even though Stiles stayed with Derek that night the whole puppy-making thing had more or less fallen off his agenda. It was currently buried under an actual argument instead of a pretend one.

"The difference is that wasn't an accident," said Derek. "You aren't going to accidentally hurt anyone. Especially not pack." He was frustrated. That worked for Stiles because misery loved company but it made it hard to keep his resolve on the topic of genetics.

"It was an accident first time it happened, it could happen again," said Stiles. "I've been working on nothing but this for a month. I got better at it. But everyone was right there tonight. It was like sardines around that stupid plant. I could have missed."

He kept trying to tear himself down like he had to convince himself he would _never_ figure out control and that attitude would only guarantee it. Derek actually growled and surprised him, caught him by the shoulders with a shake to make him pay attention. "Exactly! You didn't miss. You hit _exactly_ who you intended to. Don't tell me you didn't."

"I could have been aiming for that plant and you'd never know," said Stiles. He brought his arms up to knock Derek’s hold aside, a frustrated protest. "Maybe _I_ wouldn't know."

"You won't know unless you work at it, and you have, and it paid off," said Derek. He met Stiles' glare without letting him back down from it. "Which means... If you keep working at it, you'll crack this thing. You'll figure it out and we'll get them all back to normal."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Before or after everybody loses their house?"

"So what? It's just a house. I lived in my car," said Derek. "We'll just make Mom's house bigger."

That dragged a grin out despite Stiles' mood. "You guys really do the whole communal pack living thing, huh?"

Glad for the positive sign, Derek nodded and let himself relax a little. "When it's financially beneficial, yeah, and at the moment... It could be," he said. Stiles frowned at him then.

"Why didn't you tell me about getting the job at the store?" he asked. Derek's hands caught at his shoulders but the shake this time was more like carefully hitting pressure points to help him relax. He touched his forehead to Stiles' and still held his gaze.

"Because of this. Because you're exhausted and you're freaked out and you're not yourself," he said. He could smell it on Stiles, day in and day out. It was like Stiles was in a drawn out fight with himself - actually himself and not some psychotic dark Druid - and Derek couldn't help at all. He could only sense it happening and there wasn’t much he could do to protect Stiles from himself. "You've been worked up since the accident. I got the job for my Mom's place but I couldn’t tell her that. Not because of the pack. Not because of you. And you _still_ don't believe me when I tell you that."

"The only way you know that I don't is by cheating so stop cheating," said Stiles. He blushed anyway and Derek grinned, smug. Stiles gave up on the attitude then and pulled Derek in for a hug, needing to hang on to someone then. Derek folded up around him as he brushed a kiss at his cheek, all Stiles would let him reach.

"I want to either figure this out or make it go away," Stiles said, the complaint quiet and muffled against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have this much power to do anything. Especially not... shrink people."

"You didn't shrink anybody," said Derek. He felt Stiles frown at the platitude.

"Are you kidding? Chris is like a _midget_."

"Okay, fine, Chris you shrunk. But nobody else."

Stiles nodded. "And what if next time I try to do that it goes wrong? The way this stuff works... It's balance, it's reciprocal, and I'm just sitting here _playing_ with it- it could all blow back at me. Light me on fire or something..."

The words hit Derek right in the gut because his mind was tumbled with thoughts of Stiles and the house he wanted to work on with him and his mom... and then suddenly _fire_ was dropped in the middle. Old memories and new mixed with horrifying imaginings that all suddenly coalesced into the sight of the tree and the pile of branches nestled atop it.

"Wait. Stop." That wasn't Derek's patient-and-tolerating tone so Stiles stopped complaining. He froze. Derek didn't move and Stiles' curiosity started eating at him.

"What?"

"What'd Scott's mom say they found at the nemeton?"

The extreme hard-left turn in conversation topics was a new one from Derek even though coming from Stiles it would have been perfectly normal. Stiles apparently noticed.

"You've been hanging around me too long," he said. "We were having a _moment_ here and then you go and ask about nests in the woods... _Oh_."

Stiles rather jarringly jumped onto the same line of thought Derek had derailed on. He pulled back and stared at Derek, eyes wide.

"It's not a nest," he realized. Derek met his gaze and nodded.

"Someone's going to burn it."

 

***

It was decided that Kyle wasn't going to cause trouble so Mel sent Chris and Talia home to sleep in their own beds. Things were still awkward between them from Chris’ off-hand comment earlier that night. The car ride was quiet. The walk to the elevator and the ride up was silent. It was something close to midnight and they were both tired. It was just awkward underneath. Guilt ate at Chris probably more than anything.

"Okay, we stop this," he said finally. He punched the elevator stop and turned to face her. It was damn uncomfortable being shorter than her but Chris had gotten used to it over the last month. It was an advantage and Talia was a werewolf and his pride said it was a weakness. But Victoria had been taller than him, in her heels and her finery. When it got down to _fact_ and not _training_ , a couple of inches didn't bother him. And just to prove him right, Talia stared right at him, meeting his eyes just as she had when they were the same height. And damn her she didn't say anything. But it wasn't her fault either.

"I know what I said earlier and it wasn't what I meant," Chris told her. "I didn't think of you or the others when we were talking about the tree. I meant the kind of actual creatures that were a threat."

"Whether you thought to include us or not, we should be included, Chris," Talia said. She didn't seem mad, she seemed resigned. That was worse.

"No you aren't," he insisted. Talia arched an eyebrow at the comment, ever so elegant even when insulting herself.

"Why?" she asked. "Because I look normal sometimes? Because you know me?"

"Because you don't want to cause hell, you want to protect people and not tear them to shreds," Chris said.

"But that is still in my nature. That is still instinct under the surface, for me and my children," she said. Chris nodded.

"The same can be said for me and mine," said Chris. "The difference is in how we use that instinct, alright? You and I are on the same side. That's all I meant by what I said. I didn't mean to hurt you."

They still stood in the elevator, left alone because of the late hour, and Talia took her time reading him. She seemed surprised but Chris meant it. Finally she accepted it with a nod.

"Thank you for clearing that up," she said.

"You trust that I mean that?" Chris asked. Talia tilted her head, curious at the challenge.

"Yes," she said. He hesitated before he nodded.

"Allison's not home tonight. She's hiding at Lydia's," he finally said. Talia grinned first.

"And Cora's up at my place. Probably asleep since she worked today," she said.

"Wouldn't want to wake her up. You could stay with me," Chris offered. Talia smiled then and nodded. She tugged his hand away from the elevator panel and accepted the invite with a kiss on the cheek. Her fingers folded between his as he moved away from the door to her side again.

 

***

 

It was somewhere around six am when Casey's cell phone went off. After a month of his own schedule, sunrise was too damn early on a Saturday. He flailed around on the edge of the bed in search of the damn phone in his damn pants and "why is it so damn early?" was what he finally said when he answered it.

"Uh. Is it? I dunno, I just saw the sun come up so I figured it was late enough to call you," came his son's voice. Casey peeked open an eyelid and was greeted by glaring sunlight off the cheery walls of Melissa's room.

"Yes. Sunlight. Check," he confirmed. "That does not mean _late_. It means _early_. Unless you're my son, in which case it means late, because you haven't slept."

"See, I always knew there was a reason you got that promotion, Dad," said Stiles, his usual false cheer in his tone.  
Casey sighed. Even twenty years younger he sounded old and exhausted around his son. "What did you do?"

"I didn't, I swear, we're good so far," said Stiles. Casey buried his face in a pillow. Melissa leaned up on an elbow and started rubbing reassuring patterns on his back as a massage while reminding him quietly that they were not in the game to kill their children.

"What do you mean by the _so far_ part?" Casey finally asked the phone.

"Well, see, Derek had this theory that the thing around the nemeton isn't a nest. He thinks it's a bonfire," said Stiles. "So we've been out here all night watching it."

"Oh my god, Stiles..."

"No, really, Dad. I think he's right. And I think we should take shifts. That's why I'm calling you. It's your turn 'cuz I wanna sleep, like really bad. I'm gonna start the thing on fire myself on accident if I don't sleep soon and I just-"

"Okay. We'll be there in a half hour," Casey interrupted. "Gimmie time to tell Mel and get out the door."

Stiles really was tired because his rambling thank yous got interrupted by a yawn so unignorable that Derek had to take the phone from him to end the call.

"What's going on?" Mel asked.

"Stiles and Derek think the tree needs a babysitter," said Casey. He sighed and scrubbed at his face as he sat up. "They think it's a bonfire rather than a nest."

"Well what would that do?" Mel asked. "I mean, if the tree wasn't there, what would happen?"

Casey shook his head. "Even if it isn't some kind of weird magic thing, I can't let some punk kids start a bonfire in the preserve in the middle of summer, Mel."

"Huh. Yeah. Bad plan," she agreed. "So go get your badge and scare 'em off, sheriff." She tossed in a wink to complete the tease and flopped back in the pillows. "Come on, Koz. It's morning. Nobody lights up a bonfire this early. Call him back and tell him to go home. We'll go back this afternoon before the party gets started and figure out something then."

Casey grinned at her for the logic, and he leaned over and kissed the beautiful picture that offered it up. "Love to," he said. "But my kid actually called for help this time. This is dad-duty, not the sheriff's badge talking."

Melissa wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for another kiss. That was apparently a very good answer because it definitely made the woman happy.

 

***

 

Ultimately Stiles didn't want his dad to stay on watch by himself and Scott was called out. Stiles had the unique ability to boss around three alphas and get away with it, like an axis point they anchored from. He wasn't an alpha, he wasn't even their advisor, and he didn't sign-on with any of them. Not even Scott. The kid could not be leashed. He just got things done, whatever it took. And now he was protecting a tree.

Shifts were set up. They would watch the tree until whatever was trying to burn it showed up, and they kicked its ass, per Stiles' decision. They had tried prying the tangle apart and it was too heavy, too stuck in place. Stiles said it was more than just the interlocking puzzle pieces that made it impossible to move. When he got too close to it he got sick to his stomach, like a notched up level of stress he had no outlet for.

Whatever had built it was supernatural and used their own force to keep it in place, or the nemeton was protesting the cage and Stiles was just overly sensitive to the tree's moods. Which was weird but made a sort of sense. The tree gave Stiles the power-download and kept him alive when a couple of Druids tried to wipe him out for Jennifer Blake. He had more locked inside him than he or Deaton could figure out what to do with. The tree probably knew. To his father, that was scary; a _tree_ wasn't supposed to have his kid on a leash. It made Casey nervous and a little angry. He didn't mind Derek having a hold on Stiles because he knew Derek would take care of him and keep him safe. He wasn't so sure about a tree. Especially one that was currently acting like it was afraid to die under a pyre.

"Anything yet?" A familiar voice, if slightly younger and higher, interrupted Casey's thoughts and he looked to see Mel walking toward him. He looked over at Scott to be sure at least one of them had been paying attention and saw the teen was already halfway to his mom. Apparently their shift was up because Talia and Chris were walking in with Melissa.

"Nothing showed," said Casey. "We've been listening to birds all morning."

"Too bad you can't understand them," said Talia. She held up a blanket draped over her arm. "How about a lunch break?"

Chris set a basket down and offered to help spread the blanket out.

"Picnic works for me," said Casey. Scott declined and ran off to get on with his Saturday. It was weird, sitting down to a picnic with adults and seeing teenaged faces instead, but Casey had gotten used to it. He filled them in on what little information he had gotten from Stiles that morning and that was it. No more discussion of trees. They had no proof of anything, no real tangible reason to worry about a tree. The tree would take care of itself. So conversation wandered to other things, like school and the kids and Casey gladly filled Talia and Chris in on what they had missed of the game the night before. Casey refrained from reenactments, but it was a close thing.

As their visit was coming to a close, Talia suddenly stopped smiling and went on what passed for alert-mode. Casey noticed and set his hand on his ankle, just below the holster hidden there under his jeans; he didn't argue with Hale instinct. She nodded but waved for patience as she looked around to spot whatever had shown up on her radar.

An old man stepped out of the woods, walking into the clearing around the nemeton like he happened upon something that surprised him. Red hair had faded in patches out to white but was somehow still long enough to be tied back in a loose tail. He might have been a hiker but he looked too frail, cheekbones too pronounced and unhealthy.

"Good afternoon," he greeted. Casey eased off the weapon as Talia smiled at the stranger.

"Good afternoon," she said. "Enjoying your hike?"

"Certainly," the man said. "Lovely day for it. Bit cold but not too bad. Now what did you lot do to the tree?"

Casey was surprised. He shook his head. "Nothing. We're just having a picnic."

"It was like this when we got here," said Melissa.

"Probably somebody's prank," Chris said, apparently forgetting that he looked about sixteen years old just then and the more likely prankster. The old man eyed him warily before looking to Talia again.

"Humm," was all he said. He carried on with his hike. "Good day to you," he called over his shoulder then. Nobody said anything after that, waiting for an all-clear from Talia's super-senses. She calmed down but her smile didn't come back. The calm afternoon didn’t come back. The quiet dragged on and Talia just looked worried.

"An old man in the woods isn't exactly a problem," said Casey when it all got to him. "We have trails marked..." He stopped applying real world logic to the supernatural then because Talia arched an eyebrow at him. "Right. Okay then. It wasn't normal."

"Then what was it?" Mel asked. Talia shook her head. She didn't have a clue. That was not the most useful development. Casey sighed.

"Maybe we should change up the shifts plan," he said. "Me and Mel will stay a few hours, add a little strength in numbers."

Nobody argued the idea.

"Anybody bring a deck of cards?"

The afternoon was as quiet as the morning. They spaced out, moved away from the tree in an effort to give space for anything to show up if it was going to. Nothing did. But by the end of it even Talia was on edge about the tree, which Casey didn't find exactly reassuring. Maybe his kid wasn't crazy worrying about a tree, even if they had no other proof.

 

***


	15. Chapter 15

The next shift showed up a few people short. It was night. If they were going to babysit a tree against people who would make a bonfire out of it, especially at night, they needed numbers. Stiles and Derek weren't enough.

"No, you can't stay here by yourself," said Melissa. "We'll get Scott..."

"Fine, go get Scott," said Stiles. "Somebody has to watch this thing. Until he gets here, we stay."

"Did you get dinner?" Talia pressed, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Stiles looked away rather than answer and Derek shook his head.

"He won't eat. I barely got him to sleep," he said, quiet because Stiles fixed him with a glare. Casey shook his head; Derek was probably Stiles' biggest fan and _traitor_. Stiles didn't quite realize he tattletaled just as often on Derek to the same person.

Melissa, despite being so much smaller than him, caught Stiles by the hood of his jacket and started towing him back away from the tree. "You eat and then you can come back," she told him. "No arguing."

He tried to argue and she caught him by the ear instead. Stiles ducked and followed along a lot quieter after that. Melissa took the car keys from Casey and waved for him to go back.

"You two stay here until we're back," she told him, a nod at Derek to say who else she meant. "I'll call in your back-up."

"Relief, not back-up," Casey said. "Unless you're planning to stay out here tonight."

"Hell no, I have a bed," she replied. Stiles started walking then on his own, still sulking but at least not making her drag him anymore. Mel tiptoed up to press a kiss to Casey's cheek before turning back to march Stiles out of the park. Casey watched them disappear and then turned back to Derek. He nodded off toward Stiles.

"He okay?" he asked. Derek had a pretty good sense of what was going on with Stiles historically. And he didn't seem inclined to lie about it, unlike Stiles. Derek took a breath and didn't say anything at first. Casey crossed his arms and waited.

"No," Derek said finally. "He's panicked. It's like he's... trapped."

"Trapped?" Casey didn't like the sound of that. Derek looked over at him then, the concern on his face easily read. He nodded.

"Yeah. Like in Tahoe. Like in the fights. Same scent. He sounds the same when he talks."

"But it is _him_ , right?" Casey asked. "Not another Darach?"

"It's Stiles. He's just worn himself down and this tree thing has his back to a wall," Derek said.

"Don't suppose it's purely sentimental reasons?" asked Casey.

Again Derek went quiet.

"No," he finally said. "He can't really sleep because he keeps having these waking-dreams. Always the tree, on fire. And other things he wouldn't tell me about. It started last night when we got here. He said they get worse when he sleeps."

"And he doesn't see _dreams_ ," Casey said. "He sees _warnings_."

Derek nodded. Casey sighed.

"Well, let's face it. Babysitting a tree is not the weirdest thing we have ever done."

 

***

 

There was a slight miscommunication and before Stiles got back, the babysitters had grown in number. Scott showed up, but Isaac and Allison were still hiding from anything remotely related to Scott's father, so he showed up on his own. And Melissa had sicced Peter and Kyle on tree-duty, unbeknownst to anyone; the more amazing part was that they showed up. Kyle didn't understand any of it but he and Peter were enough like friends that he didn't seem to feel the need to argue with Peter. Casey just tried to keep his distance and lurked at the tree-line with Talia and Chris. It was very weird seeing two Scotts hanging around Peter Hale, of all people.

Casey had just gotten the text saying that Mel and Stiles were on their way back when the first signs of _weird_ showed up. Everything in the forest got quiet, no birds, not even the river talking near by. Peter stopped rambling at Kyle about evil teenagers and Talia stood up from where she had perched on a fallen tree with Chris. Even Scott paid attention when the other wolves' senses did and he moved protectively closer to the nemeton.

"Okay, so... What was that?" Casey asked.

"What was what?" Kyle the ever observant FBI agent didn't seem to have noticed, but he was still very new at the idea of anything weird. He still didn't understand why they were guarding a tree and only minutes earlier Peter had finally shut him up with "we're guarding a tree because Stiles is the smartest idiot of the bunch of them." Casey hadn't gotten involved because it was backhanded compliment at least.

There was a noise just beyond the treeline and Casey looked over to see a shadow moving in the growing darkness, coming toward them. The sun had set and the moon was rising so the twilight made things weirder than usual. Casey dropped back to help cover the newbie and tried to focus on the unknown walking toward them. It was the old man from earlier that day.

"Still picnicking?" He didn't seem very surprised to see them and the question was more sarcastic than anything.

"Summer days are meant for being out doors," said Talia.

"That is so true," the old man agreed. He didn't seem overly concerned by their presence and walked past Scott with no more than a nod. The teen stared in open surprise as the frail hiker climbed up the piled tree limbs around the nemeton with the ease of a child.

"My apologies to the lot of you," the man said. He settled himself down into the center of the nest and looked like he was about to start some sort of meditation ritual. "This will undoubtedly be uncomfortable for you but the process was started days ago. It would be rather like trying to stop a rain storm."

That sounded plenty ominous. Casey trusted his instincts on that oddity and moved out to catch Scott to drag him away from the old man. Scott fought him on it briefly, the both of them worried about Stiles and the tree.

"He's an old man, Scott. What's he going to do?" Casey said, quiet. The logic won and Scott backed off. Just in time.

A heartbeat after Scott's back was turned, the old man in the center of the nest lit up like a human torch, flames licking up from his arms like wings before drawing down to the rest of him. The fire screamed like something unnatural, like no sound Casey had ever heard from human or animal. The flames bent to touch the nest and the pyre around him touched off an explosion. Scott tackled Casey to the ground as the tree behind them threw heat and burned.

 

***

 

"Come on! Come on!"

Melissa looked over at her passenger as Stiles all but clawed chunks out of her poor dashboard.

"That is not going to make us drive any faster," she told him mildly. "We left almost everyone there, Stiles. Nothing will happen without you that three wolves and two law enforcement officers can't handle."

"Okay, your ex husband does not count as law enforcement because he's just one gigantic jerkwad," Stiles said, snappish.

"Stiles-" Melissa tried to interrupt but he just talked over her.

"And second, this isn't their thing. This is mine. And Deaton's. But he doesn't answer his stupid phone either. Seriously? Why do people bother to own phones if they're not going to answer them? Or at least check their messages?"

"Just imagine growing up without cell phones," said Melissa. Stiles scoffed.

"No. It's not the freaking dark ages. Can you drive faster?"

"No. Because if I drove faster, I would end up under that truck's tailgate and trust me, that truck would win," Melissa told him. "And I don't care if you are in tune with a tree or not. You could not fix my car. Or your own face. So I am not challenging the laws of physics because you're paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid, okay? This is bad. I don't know what's going on with that thing but it is not helping the nemeton. It's hurting it. And if you hurt the tree you hurt everybody," said Stiles.

"Could you be more vague about that?" Mel frowned over at him. He scowled out the windshield. He didn't say anything. Mel sighed. "Just for the record, next time actually remember to feed yourself at some point over the day and you'll be on the frontlines where you want to be."

"Fine."

The rest of the ride was silent. The sun sank lower at the end of the valley and the truck finally turned off the old road. Mel obliged Stiles' paranoia without him having to ask and, despite her lack of legal drivers license, speeding back to the turn off nearest the nemeton. The car was hardly stopped before Stiles had the door open and she had no doubt he would have ducked and rolled if she had let him.

Stiles tore off across the woods and Mel could barely keep up. She did good just to keep him in sight. Then the sunlight traded off with a rising moon and she figured she would just let him run. She knew where he was going and there was no sense both of them breaking their neck.

But then Stiles went sprawling, letting out a shout before deafening silence. Beyond him, off in the direction of the tree, a bright orange light lit the forest like some kind of _wrong_ sunrise. Orange and red and white. Like a forest fire.

"Stiles!" Mel ran again, catching up to him only to find him blacked out, face down in the leaves and dirt. She hit her knees beside him, shook his arm, pried her fingers between his shoulder and chin to find his pulse. His breathing was irregular and his heart rate slowed but he was alive. Melissa tried to move him over, get his face out of the leaves, and came to the startling conclusion that her seventeen-year-old self was not as strong as her thirty-five-year-old self who as a nurse could lift full grown men. So she approached it like a teenager.

"Koz!" she shouted toward the fire at the top of her lungs. She couldn't leave the kid there. She didn't know what had sent him down. As best she could, she tried to track down some sign of an attack. It was dark outside the threat of the not-so-distant fire and the patient wasn't exactly cooperative and _where the hell was his father?_ "Koz! Casey!"

What felt like minutes passed and Casey didn't show up. The fire didn't appear to be moving. And Stiles didn't wake up, his breathing didn't change, and Melissa only barely managed to roll the teen on to his back out of sheer desperation. She had screwed up somewhere along the way, adopting this clan, this pack, when she couldn't keep them together and she couldn't keep them alive. Talia or Scott could have called for help, a real alpha could howl.

Melissa shouted for help but not even Stiles could hear her. She found her cell phone and tried calling like a composed, not-freaked-out grown-up. That stopped when she caught sight of movement just in her peripheral vision. The phone was shut off before the light it cast blinded her in the dark.

"Koz?" she called out. There was a responding rustle and that was all. A shadow moved near the trees. "Talia? Who's there?"

Mel was still kneeling over Stiles' shoulder and she looked up at sudden movement to see a stranger crouched across from her on his other side. She let out a startled yelp and tried to tug the prone teen away from the shadow in the cloak.

"Back off," she warned. Large bright eyes blinked at her, firelight reflecting oddly off a pale face.

"The bard needs help," said the stranger. Their voice was strange, wispy and raspy like they smoked too much and chased it down with a liquor cabinet. "If _you_ aren't capable of it then we are. You should stay out of the way."

"Who are you?" Mel demanded. She tugged Stiles up onto her knees to keep possession of him. "If you want to help then go get his father. He's just over the ridge-"

"You're wasting time!" That was a hiss. It wasn't natural. Melissa felt her eyes glow red.

"He's not yours," she said.

"No! He belongs to the mother tree," the stranger said. They clicked a few times, like a bird, and Mel was suddenly aware of three others just like the hooded figure in front of her, all around and waiting. The stranger had back-up.

"No he doesn't," she said anyway. She was stalling. She needed ideas if she could scrounge help and nothing was coming to mind at all.

"Funny little witch you are. Think you know more of the trees than the dryad?" the stranger asked. The hood fell from their head then, showing fuzzy, kinked light hair with birch leaves in it. The birch dryad. Back at Christmas time, Stiles had said the birch was a bitch.

"He knows you?" Mel asked, cautious. The stranger nodded, curt and annoyed.

"Yes. And you are wasting time!"

Reluctant to trust the dryad - if that's what it was - Melissa held on to Stiles' shoulder. Rational sense said not to trust them. Instinct said she had to trust them to get Stiles to his father and her pack to safety. With a nod and a deep breath for courage, she eased back from the teen and tried to help the dryad draw him out of her lap. A second showed up over her shoulder and the two fae slung Stiles into a cloak and bundled him up before one of them carried him. They were tall and thin and had no business being that strong, but the dryad had no trouble carrying him like Mel would a child draped between her arms.

"He doesn't belong to the tree," Mel said, futilely trying to announce her own territory over a boy who had firmly refused to hold to anyone's territory. Stiles didn't answer to parents or alphas or friends, he just pissed them all off equally.

"Three sacrifices of the boy's own appeal would say otherwise," said one of the fae around them. "He asked for her help and welcomed it. Now she needs help. He'll give it."

"Are you kidding!" Mel caught the arm of the dryad holding Stiles and tugged. "He can't! He's hurt!"

"We all hurt," the fae snapped at her. "The nemeton will die. We feel that. He feels it. That is all that ails him and he can prevent it."

"Why don't you then? Leave him alone, he's just a boy-" Mel's protest was met by a hard glare.

"We did not receive the tree's power. The bard did. You did. He will fix the balance or we all are forfeit with the nemeton," said the dryad.

Melissa went quiet then, not because of what the fae had said but because of the sight she saw as they cleared the rise. The nest around the nemeton was a bonfire, flames high into the air and a color-wheel all to themselves. It wasn't natural and it was eating away at the pyre.

Worse than that was the sight of her friends, her family, huddled against an invisible wall that reflected firelight out into the forest. Scott protected his father from the heat of the flames and Derek had done the same for Casey. Even Peter helped Talia keep the heat away from Chris. As best they could manage, anyway.

They were trapped inside while Stiles was out-cold on the outside. The dryads had picked a champion that couldn't even get in the fight.

 

***


	16. Chapter 16

It felt like hours before the heat slacked off. It was like the worst sunburn Scott had ever had in his life scraping against his clothes. He kept his dad pinned to the ground because there was no way anybody not a wolf could handle it. Scott felt himself heal and burn again, time after time until the blaze died back. When it felt safe he looked over his shoulder. The fire still burned but it was smaller, more to the center of the nest as the sides had started to crumble to ash there. It still threw heat but it was tolerable. The bad sunburn healed one last time and he finally let his dad up out of the dirt.

"What the hell was that?" Kyle asked. Scott looked to Talia and Chris. She was only just letting him up but what alarmed Scott the most was seeing Chris lever himself up off the ground with a flat palm to clear air like he would have a wall.

"What the hell is _that_?" he asked, pointing to show what he was more concerned about.

"The nest has some kind of protection," Chris said, obviously annoyed by it himself. Talia nodded her agreement as she dusted herself off.

"That must be what that old man meant when he apologized. You can't turn a rainstorm, he can't stop a shield he set up to go off with the moonrise," she said.

"Well how do we get out?" Scott started shoving at the air, fascinated and scared all the same by the rebound. "Is it mountain ash?"

"We would have seen the trail," said Chris. He kept his distance from the nest but started tracing the clear glass wall.

"What-" the sheriff's question was cut off by surprise as Derek suddenly attacked the barrier. He was angry and panicked and Scott looked over at him, surprised by the reaction.

"Stiles!" The shout reverberated and caught the rest of the group's attention. By then, Scott looked past where Derek was attacking the air and saw tall shadows approaching their glass cage. He didn't see Stiles. He recognized his mom, though, and she didn't look happy. Then he realized that one of the tall creatures walking around her was carrying something. It was approximately Stiles-sized. Scott started slashing claws at air just like Derek.

"Wait... That thing has Stiles?" Casey didn't sound very happy about the realization. Derek didn't answer, just kept scratching. They were making progress because the clear air barrier started to fog up, cloudy like scratched glass.

"Somebody gonna tell me what's going on?" Scott's dad asked from not far behind him.

"Not at the moment," Scott told him, too distracted. Outside the glass, the shadows had become clearer and Scott recognized the dryads, the tree fae they had met at Christmas, and he stopped slashing. He had pissed off the fae then. He didn't want to challenge them when the fae had his mom and Stiles.

"Derek! Stop!" Scott bodily dragged Derek back away from the barrier. They stared through scratches as the dryad carefully set Stiles down on the ground near the barrier. His mom talked to them but they couldn't hear what was said. Derek started snarling again and Stiles' dad totally didn't help by asking what happened to his son. They didn't have any way to know it really was Stiles because he was wrapped in a cloak or something and all they saw was a body. The fire behind them was the only reason they saw anything at all. Scott watched as his mom got in some kind of argument with a tree fae and all he could do was try to keep Derek's arms pinned behind his back.

"Screw this," said Stiles' dad. Scott looked over in time to see the man pull the handgun from the hidden holster.

"Don't! You'll make them mad again!" he warned.

"Aim low," Chris said, talking over him. "We're screwed if this thing ricochets."

Casey adjusted his aim for the ground, a test shot well away from the group and nowhere near the fae or Scott's mom. It didn't rebound but it didn't break through. And it was loud. When Scott cringed from the weapon's report, Derek shrugged him off. He moved over to where Casey had shot to start scratching at the clear barrier again. Scott looked nervously between them and the fae, who watched the action attentively. His mom had knelt over the body on the ground and pulled the cloak aside enough to show Stiles' face as she checked for a pulse.

Scott started helping Derek then.

It took a few minutes to weaken the wall enough to try shooting it again. Scott and Derek were both exhausted after the healing from the fire and it was too hot in the dome. And Casey and Derek were both pissed off, which was really weird because Stiles' dad looked like he was twenty years old and that would never not be weird. He barely gave them a chance to get out of the way before he was aiming and a bullet went flying right through the opaque barrier. The weird shield shattered like an eggshell, little splinters breaking off as the crack climbed up and others broke out.

Derek charged it without warning and the shield around the nest had a hole in it just the right size for the rest of them to leave through.

 

***

 

"He just collapsed I don't know what caused it but they said it was the tree and _what the hell happened to the tree-_ " Melissa's ramble broke off when Derek and Casey crashed down next to Stiles, one on either side and she had to make room for Casey. Derek had hands on Stiles' face and neck as he listened for signs of life.

"He's alright though?" Casey pressed, asking Melissa or Derek, whichever of them might have the better answer. He batted Derek's hand out of the way to check for himself and Derek hardly noticed. He looked at Stiles' sleeping face and felt clammy, cool skin under his hands. He turned his head to the side, careful, just making sure all the pieces were still whole inside. Casey caught his hand then and held him still as Stiles was faced away from him.

"That's not supposed to be there. Something happened." He pointed to a black line under the skin that fanned out from under the collar of his shirt and up behind Stiles' ear. Derek had never seen it before and he certainly would have noticed. He carefully checked the other side, found the marks there as well. He started digging through the cloak until he caught Stiles' hands. The same strange black marked the veins in his hands and up his arms.

"He didn't have these this afternoon," he said.

"The tree is dying," said the fae nearest them. Derek had almost forgotten they were there at all. He looked up.

"What does that have to do with _him_?" he asked, snappish. If they wanted to help then they could talk and make sense; he was in no mood for riddles.

"Well. The tree gave our bard a gift, didn't she?" the dryad said, not unkindly. "But the gift will die with her..."  
Derek looked to Casey then, alarmed. "The magic. The energy. His body will start rejecting it without the nemeton to keep the currents moving."

Talia showed up at his shoulder, checking Stiles' hands for herself. She swore under her breath and it wasn't in English. That was never a good sign.

"Well. Fix it, damnit! How do we fix it? Can we un-do it somehow?" Casey asked. Anger crept into his tone. "Hit him with _jumper cables_ or _something_ to keep it going?"

"I don't know!" Derek was just as growly and unapologetic. He looked to his mom rather than deal with Stiles' dad being on the same wavelength he was. "Can we heal him? We can take pain, will that pull the energy?"

Talia shook her head. "I don't know. We have two of us who can try."

"It worked for Cora-"

"That was a different kind of poisoning, Derek. That was nowhere near this," said Talia.

"What are you talking about?" Melissa interrupted. "You can heal him?"

"What happened to Cora?" added Casey.

"We don't have time-" Derek's protest was overridden by his uncle.

"Derek used up what reserves he had as an alpha to heal her when she was poisoned," said Peter. "It wiped him out for days, but it worked."

"Which means _I_ can't do it now," Derek cut in. He looked to Scott. "Help!"

Scott stood awkward behind his mom, flustered and panicked just like everyone else. "I don't know how-"

"Yes you do! You helped your mom-"

Melissa didn't bother listening to their squabbling over her head. She reached out and took Stiles' hand from his dad. Derek shook his head at her obvious intent.

"It won't work," he said. "You're not a wolf. It won't-"

" _Watch me_ then," said the alpha who wasn't a wolf. Her eyes shone red as she stared down at Stiles. A moment later, Talia tugged Derek back, waved Casey off as they watched black lines carry up Melissa's arm from Stiles. Just like a wolf. Just like an alpha. Instinct. Derek stopped arguing.

"It will hurt-"

"Yeah, I figured _that_ part out," Melissa interrupted. Her jaw was set and she was determined.

"Then just don't let go," Derek told her. Mel looked across to Talia.

"Help," was all she said, quiet, and his mom slid her hands around the alpha's to help her hang on.

It was somehow worse to be watching and not helping than Derek remembered it actually feeling. Kyle McCall started to interfere when the pain really hit Melissa but Derek shut him up with a snarl and a glare, fangs and blue eyes readily included. He didn't want to risk Melissa either, but Derek wasn't losing Stiles if he could help it.

Before their eyes, Stiles slowly returned to his usual color. But by the time he woke up even Derek's attention was on Melissa. She was slowly returning to her usual _age_. It was surreal, the spark crawling over the both of them and yet somehow only Melissa's face got older, laughter lines creased in pain. She released his hand when Stiles woke up enough to let go of her and then she all but collapsed into Scott. Talia, just as exhausted, tended to her while Derek looked to Stiles. Talia started barking orders at Peter and Kyle, sending them back to the cars for whatever food or water they could find, and Derek tuned the group out. He caught Stiles' hand and helped him sit up. He wanted to hug him and curl up around him and keep him safe but that was nowhere near an actual option.

"Are you alright?" Casey asked the question like he expected an honest answer and Derek figured Casey was the only one other than Mel who might actually get one. Stiles leaned his shoulder heavily into Derek's and hadn't let go of his hand as he slowly got oriented. He finally nodded at Casey and got a tackle-hug for it.

"What about Mel?" he asked.

"She's alright," said Talia quickly as the three looked to stare at her and Melissa. "Just an... energy overload."

Stiles jolted. He started struggling to get the cloak away from his legs and get to his feet. "I gotta give it back."

"The tree'll wait-" Casey's argument was ignored.

"It's just a patch-job, dad. I gotta give it back - all of it - or it's just going to happen all over," Stiles said. That was enough for Derek and he started to help Stiles up.

"How can I help then?" he asked. Stiles kept hold of his hand as he shook his head.

"Just don't let me puke until it's over," he said. Derek fought hard not to kiss him for somehow still being _himself_ and just nodded.

 

***

 

Casey watched as his son went from just barely alive to staggering on his feet with help. He was in so far over his head and the reminder was like a mantra, just repeating over and over. He started to follow but Stiles waved him off.

"Help Mel. Please, Dad?"

"I'll stay with him," Derek added. It was an easier choice to make once he saw that Stiles was okay on his feet. He was still pale and wobbly, but that was almost normal compared to how drained Melissa looked. Casey stood still, conflicted. Scott and Talia had Mel fully covered and when Kyle got back, there was that argument waiting to get started. All the same, Casey crouched beside Melissa and caught her hand, squeezed enough to get her to look at him. Even the color of her eyes was paler than usual, she looked so washed out. She still looked worried, barely conscious, and like she wanted to talk. Casey shook his head at her. He leaned into her space and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"He'll be okay. Now it's your turn," he said, quiet despite the werewolves that could hear him anyway. "I'm gonna go keep him outta trouble as best I can."

That seemed to be accepted and Mel shoved at his hand in dismissal. Casey managed a grin and stood again, jogging away to leave them in the dark as he headed back into the bright area around the shielded fire. Stiles stood with Derek, facing the flames and motionless as they stared.

"Stiles," he said as he approached. "You can't do anything for it right now. You were just barely not dead..."

"I don't wanna be _full-dead_ ," said Stiles. "And I think I will be if I don't figure out how to stop this."

"The damage is done, kiddo," Casey said. He pointed to the ash piled around the base of the tree, to the pile of sticks still somehow burning in the center of what was left of the stump. The sides of the tree were blackened and scraped, just like what they could see of the top. What had once been a flat platform was now warped and cut up under the few limbs that remained under the flames.

"Don't even _think_ about putting that out with your hands, or your jacket, or _any_ other flammable part of your body," said Casey.

"Then _you_ do it," said Stiles, the challenge only made out of frustration. Casey started shrugging out of his jacket and Stiles caught his arm to drag him back. " _What_ are you _crazy_!"

"Look, just go sit down. Wait it out," said Casey.

"It could be hours and-" Stiles' argument silenced as the plume of fire from the center of the tree made a sudden 'pop!' and cut out, like someone had cut off the gas. The last limbs had turned mostly to ash and were just lines in a vague crisscrossed star in the center of the tree. Everything was black and charcoal and... Burned beyond comprehension. The once smooth, flat surface was jagged and shredded into crags and mini-canyons along the different ring lines. It looked like spikes inside a wall of ash just waiting for a strong wind to knock it down. There was nothing left to save.

"It was a dead tree before you ever set eyes on it, Stiles," Casey said. He was trying to help, trying to be respectful, but he couldn't stand by and watch the expression on his son's face turn from determined panic to anguish. "Just a bunch of roots and a stump..."

"No. It's still alive or we wouldn't be," Stiles said. He was absolutely convinced. It scared the hell out of Casey to see his son so worked up over a dead tree.

"Stiles-" Casey shut up when Stiles moved to put his hands on the remains. He cleared off some ash and poked into the spaces between the remaining shards of wood poking out of the ground. It was still hot around the tree and Casey was sweating in his jacket. Stiles was practically dripping and smeared soot on his forehead as he cleared his vision.

"Come on, Stiles. Take a break and we'll figure something out," said Derek. "We always do. You and Mel need to rest. You need water-"

"In a minute," Stiles said, in the voice that meant he had no intent of leaving until he had it already figured. Casey tried to fight Stiles' stubborn voice with his dad-voice but he hadn't gotten it to sound right in the month since he had regained twenty plus years of his own life.

"Kiddo, there's nothing you can do. The tree was cut down thirty years ago, this was all that was left. You can't bring it back."

It didn't seem to break through at all. Casey looked over at Derek for confirmation from the wolf-senses that Stiles was still himself. Derek seemed concerned but he didn't seem worried about another possession-case. Casey worried about Stiles' sanity _and_ family medical history but he was afraid to chase that rabbit down the hole considering there were _four tree fae_ still lurking not far from them and that arguably said nothing good about his _own_ sanity. Then Stiles suddenly jumped like he had scared himself with something and that was enough to startle even Derek.

" _Yes!_ Yes I can!" Stiles sounded relieved and he held his hands up over the remains of the tree like he was testing magnetic fields and expecting a rebound.

"You can what?" Casey asked. Stiles was already ignoring him and it was actually physically exhausting to know that. He stayed quiet long enough that Derek caught on.

"The plants. He's been healing plants for a month," said Derek. "He's been bringing them back. He just can't _undo_ it."

"Yes, but those were saplings," argued Casey. Someone in their clear sauna-eggshell had to talk logic. "This tree has been dead longer than either of you have been alive!"

It didn't seem to have any impact or influence at all and Stiles carried on with his Druid-voodoo, concentrating on whatever it was in his head that could talk to the currents and bring things back to life. Casey pointed a finger at him in warning.

"Fine, but if you shrink me again, or put Derek back in diapers, it's on you."

"Get out then," said Stiles. At least now Casey knew the kid was listening. He was just intently focused. Casey didn't move away. Derek, like an idiot, actually moved a step closer. Frustrated, Casey peeled out of his jacket and folded his arms to wait it out.

 

***


	17. Chapter 17

For the longest time Stiles stood still, like he was frozen. It was unnatural. With the heat and almost palpable energy in the air around them, Derek was worried. He moved closer, into Stiles' easy view, aiming for a reaction or some safe sign of him still in there in his own head. Stiles' brown eyes were lit up blue around the iris when he glanced at Derek. It was draining him and he was in over his head. He needed help.

Derek looked from Stiles to Casey, silently checking that Stiles' dad was staying. The sheriff just nodded. Despite himself, Derek hesitated. He stared at Stiles, wishing he had anything to offer at all. But Derek didn't know anything about the nemeton. He knew only a fraction of what went on with Stiles. He knew now though that Stiles was scared. There was no way Derek could help, but his mom was a different story. She had worked with Deaton, she had maintained the bestiary and worked with the hunters in Nevada on theirs. She would know more.

When Derek got back to where his mother sat with Melissa, the dryads still lurked not far from them, like Melissa was a curiosity they couldn't give up. They were afraid of the dome around the nemeton and watched Stiles, but Melissa still had their interest. Derek moved in to kneel beside Talia and the downed alpha.

"Stiles needs help," he said. Talia looked up at him, startling him with a red-eyed gaze.

"I know," she said. She still hung onto Melissa's hand, nodded to her. "This was Stiles' energy from the tree. That's why he can't take it back, couldn't make us right himself, he just doesn't know how. We were draining him."

"Then what's the tree going to do to him if it takes it all back?" Derek didn't like the potential answers. Talia just shook her head. She turned her attention to Scott.

"When your father and Peter get back, send them in to find me," she said. Scott promised, distracted by his mom. Then Talia stood and caught Chris by the hand to make sure he went with her.

"Why does this always happen?" Scott's question surprised Derek. He stopped looking around the woods and looked over at Scott instead. The young alpha sat cross-legged and hugged his mom just to keep her off the ground. Melissa was still drained but she looked like she was at least asleep this time. Derek reached out to check her pulse, breathed a little easier himself when he found she was better.

"She'll be okay," said Derek. It wasn't an idle promise. He really believed it.

"You don't know that," said Scott. "I just want her to stay out of trouble. I shouldn't have to say that about my _mom_ , but I really seriously have to."

"It should get easier again. But it's not your job to keep your mom out of trouble," said Derek, thinking of the flash of red in his own mom's eyes before she had left. "Just don't put her in danger in the first place. That's how you protect them."

It was quiet after that. Scott tried to pull pain but Melissa's sleeping body rejected it. It stung Scott when he tried and his mom tried to move away from it so he stopped. Derek split his attention between Scott and the darkened, moonlit clearing around the nemeton. The moonlight reflected off the barrier, dispersing and making it glow like fog. Talia and Chris and Casey stood around the tree, looking to Stiles as Talia talked to him. Stiles still looked focused, still held his hands just over the ashes. He was strong, but that didn't keep Derek from worrying about what the tree was taking from him.

Boots running through brush caught Derek's attention and he looked over as Peter and Kyle showed up. They unloaded an armful of water bottles next to Scott. Derek stood up and pointed them toward the hole in the dome.

"Mom figured it out. She needs your help in there," he told them. "Go!"

"Like hell I'm going in there-" Peter's protest was quieted when he got his first good look at Melissa curled up in Scott's lap. "She's really normal."

Derek shoved his uncle's shoulder and pointed angrily toward the dome. "Go! Both of you!"

Peter looked between Melissa and the dome. Then he grabbed Kyle's arm and shoved him toward the nemeton. "Let's go then."

Derek wanted to go with them but the dryads still stood nearby. There was no way he could leave Scott to the tree fae when his mom was down. The kid had pissed off the tree fae stealing mistletoe and only a blink of an eye had passed to the fae since Christmas. There was no telling how the fae would respond if Scott smarted off about something. He had to be babysat, had to have backup, because messing with Scott's mom made him unstable and Mel had definitely been messed with. Derek reluctantly crouched beside them again, a hand on Scott's shoulder to reassure him.

"They'll be fine," he said. He tried to sound like he believed it.

 

***

 

Bringing the others in around the tree wasn't enough. Talia hesitantly tried putting hands on the roots but still nothing happened. It was frustrating.

"What do I do?" Stiles asked her. He kept his attention on the tree. "We gotta get it back."

"I don't know, pup. What does your gut say to do? Always go with intuition," she said.

"This is all I've got," said the young Druid. Talia nodded at him, encouraging.

"Then keep at it." It was the only idea they had so there was no sense ignoring it.

The tree didn't change at all. Even when Peter and Kyle showed up, nothing happened. They all stood there in the dark, waiting in the unnatural silence, watching a burned up tree crumble away. There was a thrum of energy to the air, stronger than what Talia usually associated with the tree. Either it was still alive somehow or Stiles was throwing energy at them all to no effect. The effort to stay focused left Stiles blinking at the ashen star in the center but he kept at it. When Talia asked him if he was still having day-dreams, Stiles shook his head. It wasn't exactly a positive sign of life but Talia was choosing to hope it meant the tree wasn't sending out an SOS because the tree was healing.

"Did the tree tell you what would happen?" The question seemed odd to even Talia and Stiles did look up at her, confused for a moment. "In the dreams. Have you seen any of this before?"

"I can't..." Stiles looked like he was having trouble focusing on the tree and a conversation at the same time.

"The dryads said you belong to the tree, that you asked for help and you got it. So now you have to pay it back," she told him. "If the tree dies, the energy she gave you dies too."

"It's a poison and a cure," said Stiles. Talia nodded.

"And you shared it. You gave some of that energy to us. So we have to give it back," she said. Stiles' attention flicked over to her again, his concern plain.

"When the tree dies-"

"We'll be fine. We have been so far. It's you we're worried about," said Casey.

"You're some kind of filter, Stiles. Otherwise when you went down, we would have," added Talia. "Melissa gave some of it back and it brought you around. We can do the same for the tree."

Stiles thought it over, quiet and focused. Peter and Kyle showed up then. They met at the tree, standing beside Chris and Casey without being told.

"There's six of us. Shift your focus a little, try to draw back the energy instead of give it out. And don't worry about us this time, just the tree." Talia's coaching was quiet and serious, not gentle, not coddling, because Stiles didn't need that. Her eyes glowed red, surprising Stiles so his eyes glared blue around the brown. "You can do this."

So he tried. Talia didn't know how long they stood there and she watched as Stiles started to wear himself down. But something was working. White sparks climbed all over him, a trick of the moonlight off the energy he pulled in. As she looked around, Talia saw teenagers morphing into their adult selves. Between them, the ash pile that was once the nemeton glowed orange from the core, like embers were threatening to light up again all through it. It didn't catch fire though.

Talia tried to keep her attention on Stiles and the shredded tree stump but it was distracting to feel the effects of the spark leave her. Her muscles started to ache and get heavy, her bones felt stiff and locked up, and her skin felt the heat from the embers of the nemeton like an old burn. It was like she dried up and drained out, too tired to let herself stay focused. She knew how the energy worked, she knew she needed to focus and help Stiles stay on target, her own mental mantras aiding in whatever Deaton had taught the boy. But it was hard to think about the tree when she felt like she was fighting her own battle with gravity. It seemed to be hitting Casey and Chris harder than it hit Talia and Peter. Kyle McCall was just barely conscious but his determination and confusion were more stubborn than the spark.

And then Stiles started to waver on his feet. He blinked and shook his head but the toll was telling. Casey edged closer to Stiles, trying to catch his son's attention. Stiles shook his head and kept it up. The boy looked terrible under the strain of the magics he was in no way qualified to handle. It had the ability to shred him as badly as the phoenix had shredded the nemeton and he was starting to look like it would.

Then movement beyond Stiles caught her attention and Talia looked over to see Derek inside the dome. Her son was panicked and focused at the same time, his attention on Stiles as he approached. He was too quick for Talia to order off and maybe it was a good thing. The second Derek tucked an arm around Stiles’ middle, the teen crumpled like thin paper. He shouldn’t have been there, shouldn’t have risked being so near the open spark, yet by showing up when he did Derek barely kept him from landing in the ashes. He tugged Stiles against him and they sank to the ground. By then, Stiles was bloody and hardly conscious. Derek wrapped around him like he could cocoon the young druid, hardly feet away from the roots of the old tree.

The nemeton still glowed from inside the ash and piles of sticks.

 

***

 

Melissa wasn't able to drive herself home but she was awake and walking by the time Derek and Casey had to help Stiles away from the tree. The boy was conscious but not coherent and it was good enough to at least get him home. They would work with what they had. Melissa felt weird. Everything dragged and her limbs felt heavy. She had to swat her son away for threatening to carry her.

"Don't even think about it," she told him. "I need some coffee and I'll be fine."

Talia saved her by catching her hand and sticking to her shoulder. "Go carry your father," said Talia, grinning and smug. "He looks like he's missing being a kid again."

Melissa looked around, squinting in the dark until she spotted Kyle hunched over and leaned against the base of a tree for support. He was going to be sick. The weekend was just too much for him. His _friend_ Peter was innocently staying far away from the human frailty.

Melissa saw the shadows of the dryads near the cracked hole in the protective shell around the nemeton. The strange foursome had posted themselves as guards as soon as the last wolf was out of there. And then, somehow, as Mel was staring at it, the huge dome and the nemeton and the dryads disappeared. The moonlit clearing was empty. She tugged Talia to a stop and just stared at the blank space.

"It's still there," Talia said. "It's just a glamour. We've done all we can. So now it's on them."

Melissa looked back at Talia, finally registering two things. First, her friend looked like herself again, older and road-worn and tired in the shadows. And second...

"Your eyes aren't blue," Mel said. "That is definitely red."

Talia nodded, offered up a shrug. "I can't leave the packs unprotected. You're out of commission. And I am not letting Peter have it."

"Yes, good plan. The best plan." Melissa nodded quickly. She hugged her friend's arm as they started walking toward the cars again. "And thank you. I know you didn't want it back."

Talia smiled. "I'll get used to it. Somebody needs to show you kids how it's done."

 

***

 

The cars were parked where they had been left. The problem was that there were three sheriffs vehicles parked around them. Kyle and Peter walked right out into them without paying attention; the return to normal had sapped all of them and no one was on their game. Talia had enough warning to hold the rest back, Chris helping her keep watch as she consulted with Mel and Casey. They were the four most directly impacted by the presence of law enforcement at the moment. Casey looked like the missing sheriff again, if a little on the scrawny and malnourished side. There was no way to pretend any of his officers wouldn't recognize him. And Stiles' currently unresponsive state wouldn't go over any better.

A familiar shriek derailed the parents' conversation.

"Lydia?" Casey asked. At Talia's nod, the sheriff looked over at the young man helping him support his son’s dead weight. "You got him?"

Considering he was talking to a werewolf and Stiles' boyfriend it was probably a stupid question but it was given for warning more than anything. Derek's only answer was a nod. Casey ducked out and Scott moved in quick to take his place. Derek could have just picked Stiles up to carry him, but Casey had refused to let him on the walk so far. He wanted to know his kid was still alive and sharing the load was the only way Casey could hear the boy's breath and feel the heartbeat. Now it was Scott's turn to fuss apparently. The sheriff reluctantly backed off and headed for the parking lot.

"Uh... What are we doing..." Mel said, all but running after him to stop him from something stupid. Too bad, Casey thought, because he was set on this one.

"We're getting my kid to a hospital and I'm lying my way back into my job," said Casey. Mel latched on to his arm but it was only to keep stride with him, not slow him down.

"What's the cover story?"

"I'm still working on it," Casey said. Lies were not his forte. But he was the goddamn county sheriff. He had been around a few blocks. He had heard some crazy stories. He had to have one somewhere in his memory banks that could explain a month long kidnapping. Chris and Talia followed after them and Scott and Derek trailed at the back with Stiles, in no hurry to engage sheriffs deputies while carrying a body. That didn't look good. None of this looked good. Casey sighed and scrubbed at his smooth-shaven chin. "We are so screwed."

Melissa hit him in the arm for it but by then one of the deputies had spotted him. "Ah hell. It's Parrish."

"We like Parrish," Mel reminded him quietly.

"Yeah. And we weren't actually kidnapped. If anyone will figure that out..." Casey said. Mel's hands tightened around his arm.

"You lie good, got it? Win a freakin' Oscar."

That was completely not helpful but Casey let it slide because Parrish was headed for him. As was a short redheaded female and he was fairly certain that short redhead was handcuffed.

"What did that one do?" Casey asked, not thinking properly about his priorities.

"What did _I_ do?" Lydia Martin was not impressed by his concern. "What about you guys! Something happened! What happened?"

Thankfully her questions were vague and Parrish mostly ignored her.

"Are you alright Sheriff?" the deputy asked. He was surprised and relieved and amazed and suspicious all at once. Casey could have kicked himself for hiring on someone who actually knew their job just before disappearing from his own.

"We're alright but we need an escort," he said. He looked back to where Derek and Scott carried Stiles between them. Lydia made a noise that was something like a squeak and started toward them.

"I knew it, I saw it, what happened, please no-" Lydia's ramble was quieted by Mel catching her by the shoulders and in a hushed voice reminding her not to go red-eyed around strangers because Stiles was okay. Casey snagged the keys politely from his deputy to set her loose and Lydia was off to see for herself.

"Why'd you have that little girl in cuffs in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night?" Casey asked Parrish. It was mostly just to throw him off and it worked. The deputy stuttered and his eyes bugged in the odd colored shadows cast by light bars on cop cars around trees.

"She was speeding and wouldn't pull over," Parrish said quickly. "And then when she did it was here, by your car. She nearly hit it." He pointed to the cars in question and Casey looked, surprised to see Lydia's car nose mere inches away from the old blue jeep's driver door. "She said Stiles was in trouble and wouldn't say how and it was just all very suspicious."

"Stiles must have called her," said Casey, hedging the truth. He didn't want to know how banshees knew about deaths in progress. And he didn't want to think that his son had died or even come close enough to it that Lydia would have freaked out about it.

"Sheriff?" Parrish asked, drawing him back. "What happened? You've been gone for over a month, Stiles said you were kidnapped..."

"It's a long story. And right now, I need to get my kid and the rest of us to the hospital," said Casey. He was stalling, but he was also worried. Parrish seemed to notice.

"I'll call it in. Can you drive or do you want a ride?" he asked. "You can explain it all to a doctor."  
Casey wanted to laugh; the kid had no idea.

 

***

 


	18. Chapter 18

The hospital look-over stalled for about two hours. Everyone except Scott and Derek was seen to, which baffled Parrish as he ran around trying to be sure everything was documented but he didn't argue. It was long enough to come up with a story to front with but not long enough for Stiles to wake up, despite Lydia Martin watching over him like a hawk. Parrish let him camp out in his son's room with Derek and Chris but he didn't let them dodge.

"You know Stiles filed a report when you disappeared, right?" Parrish said. Casey heard the question under the question; somehow the young deputy knew enough to see under the evening's noise and misdirections. He was calling Stiles a liar as politely as possible. Lydia and Derek both watched them from the other side of the bed, thoughtful and blank-faced but probably ready to pounce over Stiles at the deputy if he got any closer to being a threat to their friend. Casey crossed his arms and sighed.

"Well, as he tells it, he was forced to make a report," the sheriff said. In his sheriff voice, now that he had that back. "But he did mention the report."

"So? Where were you?"

"Lost in the Sierra Nevadas," lied Casey. "We didn't like the hostage plan, we left, and we got lost in the woods."  
Parrish arched an eyebrow like he couldn't figure out how to politely call bullshit on his boss. Former boss, probably, but he was still trying.

"Look, they took Talia again. The same batch of psychos that took her and kept her in Nevada. Mel and I screwed that up for them and they couldn't figure out what to do with it. We took advantage and we left and then got lost," said Casey.

"It was related to the court case," Talia said. She toyed with the hospital band around her wrist rather than look at Parrish as she walked in the room. Chris stood up from his chair in the corner to offer it to her. Derek hunched a little closer to the bed. Casey caught something weird between mother and son at that. He filed it away and nodded toward Parrish.

"They didn't want her testifying next month," he said. It was a bold faced lie. He was perfectly okay telling it. "So they hired someone to make an accident happen out of me and Mel, and Talia got involved and between the three of us, we got loose. We had to hide for awhile and Talia and I have some hunting experience so we stayed in the woods in Nevada and dodged bad guys."

Parrish frowned at him. "You couldn't find a phone?"

"In the woods?" Chris asked, eyebrow raised in clear judgement of Deputy Parrish's mental facilities.

"Why call home when they'd just go after the kids then?" said Talia. She shook her head. "Not happening. If we disappeared for a month, so be it. But I wasn't putting the kids at risk."

The two of them tag-teamed on storytelling, with Chris, Lydia and Derek to witness and take notes. Casey noticed Derek excuse himself at one point, which surprised him. It had almost taken the jaws of life to pry Stiles' hand off Derek's wrist when they had first gotten to the hospital. Apparently the unconscious Druid was more comfortable with people talking around him than he was with nurses poking him with needles and drip feeds. The mystery of Derek's disappearance was solved minutes later when Melissa let herself in the room.

"Did you tell him about Nevada again?" she asked. It wasn't brain surgery to figure out that Derek had passed on the story. Melissa settled on the foot of the bed as she checked on Stiles. If Parrish had doubted them before, Melissa's contribution brought him back around. Casey tried not to smile down at the floor tiles.

 

***

 

Tracking down Peter and Kyle was actually hard in a hospital. Everything smelled like antiseptic and bleach and it wrecked havoc with Derek's senses. He finally spotted Scott outside a curtained off area and took that as a clue.

"Did they find anything wrong?" Derek asked, nodding toward the curtain he assumed hid Agent McCall.

"Nope," said Scott. "Everything is better than normal actually. A little healthier, too. He used to have this cough from smoking so much but they said his lungs are fine."

"He smoked?" Derek asked, surprised. Scott shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah. So?"

"So. You had asthma," said Derek. Scott caught on and stifled a sigh. He just nodded.

"Can we just not with the victim blaming?" Peter's voice added to the noise and Derek looked over as he walked up, shrugging back into his jacket. "After all, Stiles attacked him in front of all of us."

"Don't start," Derek warned his uncle. Peter grinned.

"I knew that would get you going. So predictable, Derek," said Peter. Derek chose to ignore him. He looked back to Scott.

"Tell your dad they were in Nevada again," he said. "It was because of the court date next month and it backfired, they got loose and they've been wandering the forest this whole time."

"That's it?" came McCall's voice from behind the curtain. The sliders protested as he shoved it aside and stared out at Derek, accusing. "They were gone for a month."

"It had to do with the court case," repeated Derek. He was very careful not to raise his voice and he made sure to emphasize the court case part. Again. Maybe Kyle was new to the secrets but he had to have been around at least long enough to catch Derek's meaning. The agent crossed his arms, apparently not willing to play along if he did catch on.

"It had nothing to do with the court case. And I'm not signing on to a story that will jeopardize the actual case," said Kyle.

"We're better off if the case falls through," argued Derek. He kept quiet but he stepped closer to the agent's space to make sure the man understood him. "Everything goes back to how it was and there's nobody gunning for us. Just like before. Go after the RICO thing all you want but let my mom handle her own case. If the last few days haven't shown you that there's more at play here than you know about then there's no way you would believe us if we told you. So just stick with the story."

"It's illegal, for starters," said Kyle. He wasn't overly interested in being intimidated so Derek put real thought into what the man might do if threatened.

"Considering your kid is just as far in it as Stiles, you should be re-prioritizing," he said instead.

"My son is fine," Kyle replied. "He's also why I want those freaks who hurt your mom behind bars. Maybe I can't explain the past weekend to save my life, but Stiles lied. Now you're trying to tell me to go along with another lie to keep him and his father out of trouble for it? Not something I'll do when that lie could set murdering kidnappers back on the streets."

"Mom could lose her job," said Scott. "There's no way to explain where she was, you just said so yourself. Then we're just as bad off, and still lose in court because they have their story and you have your story and nobody will know who to believe."

"You'll look like an idiot if you try to counter the three of them," added Peter. "I wouldn't suggest that fight as a career move. Not under the circumstances."

"Then they shouldn't lie to cover for a freakshow-"

That was the crossed line for Derek and he caught the fed by the jacket front and shook him. His eyes glowed and sharp claws cut into the coat in his fists.

"How about you stick to the story or I show you the kind of freakshow you really need to be worried about." It was said quiet on a growl and plenty effective. Kyle stared in shock. Just behind Derek and off either shoulder stood Peter and Scott, the both of them staring at Kyle with unnaturally bright eyes. Kyle finally seemed to process that his son's eyes were not naturally a brilliant red even though he had seen the look before. He caught on, nodded reluctant agreement.

"Nevada it is," he said.

"Good answer," said Derek. He rolled his shoulders, a heartbeat later back to normal. Kyle blinked at him, confused. Derek smiled without a shred of humor.

"You've missed a few memos, Agent McCall. Maybe you should get these two to read you in," said Derek. He motioned toward Scott and then Peter. "Just keep out of my family's lives until you know what you're dealing with."

Nobody argued with that. Derek took that as an excuse to leave. "I'm going to go check on Stiles," he said.

"Stiles will be fine," said Scott, quiet. It was pure wishful thinking, borrowed from his mother probably. Derek accepted it with a nod and a shrug; Melissa and her determination to believe had accomplished a hell of a lot over the past year. Derek would take what he could get at the moment.

 

***

 

Despite the fact that Parrish was probably the smartest deputy Sheriff Stilinski had ever hired, he had committed a cardinal sin interviewing Casey alongside Mel and Talia. Their stories corroborated by default because they fed off each other's ideas. Casey had recognized the old man at the nemeton from Stiles' description in the police report, even if the artist sketch showed someone not quite that old, so it was easy to blame him again. What was the old man going to do about it now that he was dead? Not a single thing. So they kept up the frame-job and tried not to counter whatever story somebody else offered up. It seemed to work, however. Parrish took his notes and asked his questions and didn't call for backup to get the whole group of them tossed into the local loony bin.

And when Talia and Mel both showed fatigue - which was unusual for the versions of them that Derek was used to lately - Lydia stood up from her chair and politely demanded that the deputy return her to her car because it was late. Stiles was still dehydrated and malnourished and barely functional but he was slowly improving. Mel was nearly healed from her minor variation of the same thing. The rest of them were just drained. There wasn't anything Lydia could do to help with the stress and energy drain around them. But she could help by getting the deputy to go away, so she did, without consulting anyone about it.

At that point, Derek basically gave up ever getting Stiles over his fifteen year plan because he was all but signed on to join him in it. They approached things differently but Lydia was a short, fiery, spoiled clone of Stiles in some ways, and an alpha as a bonus. She had grown on him and whether it was the events of the last year or the events of the last twelve hours alone, Derek couldn't tell, but he knew he wanted to keep her around. He watched Lydia sneak and cajole and demand and then watched Parrish crumble like a house of cards in the face of the redheaded queen's agenda.

The deputy was gone minutes later and Derek was able to lay claim on Stiles' hand again once Lydia wasn't around to chase him off her preferred chair near the bed. They had been in the hospital scenario too many times over the past year if Derek and Lydia had established custody plans for the guest seat in a hospital room. He wove his fingers in with Stiles' and set his head on folded arms on the edge of the bed. Things were quiet. It felt like the first quiet they had been allowed in weeks.  
He was all but certain that meant there was something wrong, somewhere. They were quiet and still. His mom and Mel seemed to be the strangest pieces of the puzzle. There was something... Off. Derek didn't know what to do with it. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. He kept his head down and took the excuse to hide behind the sleeping Stiles.

"We have a... Slight bump in the plans," said Melissa finally. Talia let out a huff of laughter and Derek looked up, suspicious. Casey seemed just as concerned by the combination.

"I didn't know we really had any plans," the sheriff said.

"Trust me, whatever plans any of us might have started up in the near future, this one wasn't on the list," Talia told him. That was downright ominous.

"What's wrong?" asked Derek. His mom looked back at him, hesitant to answer. He caught the shift in her scent, even Melissa's mood growing worried. And that's when Derek noticed it. He knew what was wrong with their scents. He didn't know what to do with the meaning of it, but he finally recognized it. If he was honest with himself, he didn't like it.

"Nevermind," he said quickly. His attention returned to Stiles's face so he could better ignore the so-called adults in the room.

"Now I really want to know," said Chris. Derek figured the man knew enough but didn't say anything.

"They saw some weird things on the vitals," said Melissa. "On mine, I mean. So they added a couple of tests. To me and Talia both, just to be safe. And... Well, they both came back positive, so..."

"What? What does positive mean?" Stilinski looked suddenly pale and worried.

"Parasites, what do you think," muttered Derek into his arm. He didn't think anyone noticed and tried to stay out of their moment.

"Remember when Deaton told us to stay out of trouble?" Melissa said to Casey. "That anything we did, uh, before, could follow us when we went back to normal? We didn't pay attention and we probably should have..."

It wasn't surprising to notice Chris put it together first. Watching the hunter's eyes try not to pop out of his head, Derek knew he wasn't supposed to be there for this. He wanted to sneak out of the room and go find a den to hide in with Stiles for the immediate future. But he was stuck and scarred for life.

"Are you serious?" Chris asked Talia. She nodded. Derek snuck a look over at his mom then and found her snogging a hunter. It wasn't anything new and he figured it wasn't going to go away very soon now.

 

***

 


	19. Chapter 19

The tree being drastically out of commission had a noticeable effect on the local population. Casey checked in with Parrish now that he was officially back even though he wasn't on-duty and the kid was juggling over-time for half the department. It was worse than the usual chaos of a full-moon for the department. Chris said while he was in the hospital waiting area he had seen a dozen animal attack victims come in, and that wasn't normal. The animals had run from the preserve after the fire in the dome and they clashed pretty bad with the urbanites. Scott reported that they hadn't been able to get a hold of Deaton all night because he had been helping animal control. And he said not all of the attacks had actually been animal-related.

It was the full moon, but the pull was higher than usual. Scott and Derek and Talia were easily triggered. Peter was a walking time-bomb and his sister sent him home as soon as she could manage it to avoid problems. They kept tabs with the rest of the packs by phone and Danny said he had his hands full with Ethan while Aiden had wolfed out and disappeared. Lydia said she knew where he was and was certain he was behaving himself. Isaac was literally curled up on the floor of Allison's closet and whined like a puppy and no one knew why. The next night was just as hard.

On Sunday, hardly twelve hours after the drain from the tree, Stiles woke up long enough to demand to go home, and the machines and noises in the hospital agitated him so badly that he tried taking the IV out of his arm while still half asleep. He was sent home for his own good; there was nothing the hospital could do for him, and Melissa was a nurse fully capable of knowing when to call an ambulance. Not to mention the black lines had started creeping back in. Explaining that to a doctor would be impossible and they had to figure out how to get the poison out. They couldn't let him stay at the hospital while that happened.

The puzzle of the weekend's excitement wasn't solved by Monday. It only seemed to get worse. So while Stiles slept through everything in a near-coma-state in his own bed, his dad took over the Stilinski dining room to help Talia and Chris pour over the bestiary in search of an answer as to what put him under.

They didn't find much. Dragons were ruled out because Talia said the nest was wrong. And dragons didn't jinx people into a coma, they just attacked.

"And they're not generally suicidal," added Chris. "Maybe a djinn?"

"Djinn? You're saying a guy in a lamp set himself on fire so he could poison my kid?" Casey asked, not believing that for a second. Chris shrugged and looked over at Talia.

"Do you think Stiles is the new lamp?" he asked. It seemed to be a genuine question.

" _No!_ " said Casey.

"Settle down," advised Talia. "We don't know so there's no harm in asking."

"I know it's not a djinn," said Casey. He couldn't say how, but he knew. "Djinn don't have anything to do with trees."

"It wasn't the fae, either," said Talia. "The last thing any fae would do is hurt that tree."

"Well something did," said Casey. He closed the book and shook his head. "Maybe that's it. The tree."  
"The tree wouldn't do it to itself either," said Talia.

"Not what I mean," said Casey. He stood up and went for his jacket and keys. "Watch my kid. I'm gonna go check something."

"What? It's still an hour from sunrise... What on earth do you need to check this early?" Talia asked. Casey shrugged into his jacket.

"The tree. See if anyone returned to the scene of the crime."

"This isn't a crime scene for cops," said Chris. "No one would go back except us."

"Maybe the rule books are different between the weird and the boring," said Sheriff Stilinski, hardly pausing at the door. "But instinct is still the same in both. Now, my gut says the tree's the problem. And the tree's not done. So I'm going to go check it out."

The logic was met with quiet. Talia looked after him, thoughtful. She glanced to Chris in silent question. The hunter gave a brief nod before he stood and moved to gather his things. "Then I'll go with you."

 

***

 

"Nope."

"Yes. There is no clause for _nope_ in this discussion." Stiles shook his head as he struggled into his jacket. He still had a few stray black lines that didn't belong but he felt better. He just wasn't on his game. And he really needed to check on the tree. Derek crossed his arms and stubbornly refused to assist.

"It's pitch black out there! And you were just in the hospital-"

"Yeah and I don't plan to go back to it so _quit whining_ ," Stiles hissed back at him. "You and me are going so _you_ can keep me from doing anything stupid. That's the plan. It's a _great_ plan. No midget parents involved."

"Everyone is back to normal so can we just-"

"Rat me out to the _not_ -midgets and I disown you," said Stiles. Derek blinked back at him.

"What, I'm in your will now?" he asked. Stiles shrugged it off.

"I can't answer that. Only my death will-"

"Your _death_ is what I want to avoid."

"Then don't tattle this time."

"I don't _tattle_..."

And the bickering continued, out the window, onto the roof, into the old oak that had seen more traffic over the past year than it had the fifteen years previous. Stiles wasn't steady on his feet but he wasn't going to drive so it didn't matter. All he had to do was think like a monkey in the dark and try not to fall out of a tree, or at least aim for his werewolf boyfriend if he needed someplace to land that might catch him.

"The front door would have been easier since, you know, you were just in a coma," Derek pointed out. He was obviously _not_ going to _let that go_. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Which is why I _can't_ take the front door without getting pounced on by a pack of former midgets," said Stiles. He found his balance on the ground and caught Derek's arm to point him toward his car. "So now that we're back to where we started on this, let's go before they see me and tell me I'm grounded again."

It got him glared at. For a moment Stiles actually worried his ride was going to bail on him, just turn tail and rat him out because it was the more responsible thing to do. It wasn't like Stiles was stupid; he knew the difference between good ideas and bad ones, but he also knew how to weigh the risks. Derek stared at him, the frown on his face hardly discernible from a straight line.

"You owe me," he finally said. It wasn't what Stiles had been expecting and he blinked.

"Owe you? Owe you _what_?" he asked.

" _So_ much," said Derek. His exasperation was clear as he shook his head and moved toward the car. Curious, Stiles followed after him, as quick as he could wobble.

"Okay, then can we at least make it something kinky?"

 

***

 

It had been a very long night already. Nobody had to work that day so they were all still awake on one project or another and it was nearly daylight on a Monday morning. The Stilinski house was quiet in the way that made Talia paranoid. There weren't enough bodies in it. Scott and Isaac were at Melissa's, babysitting her because she needed to rest and she hadn't been willing to with Stiles just upstairs in something like a coma. The nurse would have put herself into a coma checking in on him so often. Scott had to threaten to carry her home if she didn't agree to taking shifts. He was also supposed to be keeping an eye on his federal agent of a father. Which meant that, in theory, Talia was alone downstairs with Derek upstairs keeping watch over a coma case. But it was too quiet.

Talia stood, intent to go check on the boys, when her cell phone went off and drew her attention away from her plans. It was her brother so she answered.

"And how is the great academic hunt going?" Peter asked.

"Not very quickly," said Talia. "We're narrowing suspects but it's a pretty wide pool to start from."

"Well, I would assist, but I think I have the better view from here," he said. The offer to help was completely bogus and Talia just rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes you worry me, Peter," was all she said.

"Probably not as much as I should," he replied easily.

"What do you want, little brother?" Talia sighed because the man was angling for something.

"What are we doing to be sure we aren't turned into something worse than ourselves next time Stiles goes off?"

Talia actually laughed at him for it. "Excuse me?"

"You're the alpha, Talia," her brother said calmly. Like he wasn't suggesting she 'do something' about an eighteen year old boy. "And you know as well as I do that the boy is a threat to the pack. Accidental was one thing but... Kyle McCall wasn't an accident."

"No, Kyle asked for it," said Talia, no longer remotely amused. "He demanded an example and he got one. Who's to say for sure if Stiles was aiming for the plant or for Kyle?"

"Exactly. The same could be said for the rest of us. Was he trying to hit the tree off the porch or us?"

"Peter. Stop. Don't even start this up again," said Talia. "Ever."

"You're soft on a pup, for whatever reasons you want to claim, sister," Peter said. He was still quiet, still casual like he was discussing the weather and not suggesting the pack was in danger. "Maybe it's because you were gone so long. Maybe it's just because of Derek. But that pup isn't pack. He's not even family. He's untapped, untrained _power_. None of us can train him. And he's a risk to your pack. Just like Derek was a risk to our pack before. You overlooked it then and you're going to do it again?"

Talia knew her brother too well. Her eyes flashed red even though he wasn't there to see it. She actually snarled. "Do not. Bring this up. Again. Stiles is not your concern-"

"Fine, but I think he should be yours," said her brother. She was done with him then and ended the call, patience gone. Talia dug nails into the back of the dining room chair she stood by, waiting for the unexpected surge of anger to pass. She was stronger than she had been in a very long time and the urge to strangle her brother for the blatant and clumsy manipulation was even stronger.

But god damn him, he had a point.

Talia made her way upstairs. She needed to talk to Derek. About Stiles but also about Peter. She knew her brother too well not to warn her son. When she walked into an empty bedroom, however, the recently restored alpha gave a second thought to how well she knew Derek. Again she pulled out her cell phone, her plans derailed by surprises from her family. As the line rang, Talia listened to the house. Derek's phone didn't go off inside it. Which of course meant that Derek and his phone were somewhere else, probably - hopefully - with Stiles.

"Okay, seriously? We just left like _three_ minutes ago. How did you figure it out so fast?" came Stiles' voice through the phone.

"Generally coma patients don't climb out second story windows," said Talia.

"Yeah, but I feel better and _that's_ what's important here," the teen reminded her.

"You might feel better but you aren't out of the woods yet," she said.

"Headed into them actually, just to get ahead of _that_ question."

And Talia wanted to put Stiles Stilinski back _in a coma_. She let him ramble out where they were going and why he had to be there and that Derek was mad at him too but that's why he and baby animals came out cute because otherwise parents would eat their young. Talia stood in the middle of the teen's bedroom, head bowed and fingers kneading at a headache. She couldn't argue the logic. Before she had figured out how to order the boys back to where they started, Stiles had rambled his way off the phone entirely and Talia lost the chance. She sighed and looked around the room, not understanding her family luck.

Then her attention caught on a series of colorful, thick books on a shelf stacked between what looked like text books. They had to be children's fiction, too thick and too bright even in the dark room. _Harry Potter_ was in every title and Talia realized the name was familiar because she had seen the movies a few months earlier. Her eyes were drawn to one particular binding however.

"Phoenix. It's a Phoenix," she realized. A full grown man hardly fit the small profile of a mythical bird the supposed size of a peacock, and they hadn't been looking for anything that small in their searches. They had been thinking big. Dragons. Yeti. Demons. They had overlooked the bird when it was so obvious simply because birds build nests. Talia could have kicked herself. Instead, she headed downstairs and out of the house. There was no sense trying to reach the boys now; they had just talked to her and would ignore her call to avoid a lecture. She collected her own stack of books and her car keys on the way and headed out into the pre-dawn darkness.

 

***


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I need to update the tags on this... it didn't stay fluffy, did it? Sigh. But no worries, it's still all good...
> 
> \---

The nemeton wasn't where it was supposed to be. Casey knew where it should be and it wasn't there. Chris did not hesitate to point out the very obvious absence.

"The scene of the crime was glamoured, remember?" Chris said, helpfully a half hour after they had already left the house. "You won't find it without asking the dryads and I doubt they'll really be that cooperative."

Casey didn't even bother to glare at him for it. It was still dark and he was too busy looking for a hole in the fae magic. He had been awake too long and he was worried about his comatose kid, but he was certain he was supposed to be here. His gut said he was in the right place. Now all he had to do was figure out why.

Not long later the sound of feet shuffling through brush caught both his and Chris' attention. Casey had his service weapon out and aimed as he turned, normal human eyes scanning the darkness for threats. He and Chris accidentally mirrored each other and, as it turned out, were both fully ready to shoot wolfsbane at Derek and Stiles.

"Stiles!" The sheriff quickly holstered his handgun as he moved to check on his no-longer coma-bound son. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"He came to see the tree," said Derek. It was very obvious the man didn't agree with Stiles' version of logic.

"Too bad. The tree is hidden and you can't see it," said Casey. Stiles squinted at him.

"You feeling okay?" he asked. He pointed past Casey's shoulder. "The tree is right there."

"No it's not. I've been all over..." Still, Casey turned and looked just to be sure. "Nope, I don't see anything."

Stiles rolled his eyes as he brushed past him. He stopped a few feet away and held out his hand to touch air. And met a fragile, glass like barrier. The glamour disappeared, crawling back from that spot like water off a mirror, gradually revealing the egg-like dome they had broken out of. The fae still stood guard at the crack in the dome but at least now Casey could see them. He looked to Chris.

"Told you it was here," he said. Chris didn't look impressed. They had both walked through that wall a dozen times already without noticing. The whole thing was weird but Casey was rolling with it.

He watched his son interact with the wall, remembered all too well scrambling face first into the barrier trying to escape a blazing fire he had been convinced would burn the whole preserve. Instead it burned the tree that was now nothing but charred black sticks and ash lines where there used to be roots. Derek had tackled Casey into the wall in his hurry to be sure Scott could help protect Kyle and, face scrunched against an invisible wall and his arm, Casey had watched the damage the wolves took protecting the three who couldn't heal from the intense heat. Now Stiles ran his hands over the shell surrounding the clearing around the nemeton and the thing gave like water, not letting his hand through but yielding and curving at the slightest pressure.

"What happened to it?" Casey asked, looking over at Derek. "It isn't breaking but... That's not what it did before."

Just as confused as Casey, Derek shook his head. Not even Chris had answers to that one. He prodded at the barrier too and it did the same for him. It made Casey breathe a little easier knowing it wasn't just Stiles making the change happen.

"It's a shell," came Talia's voice. Casey looked back to see her approach carrying a book. In the dark, in the woods, Casey wasn't sure why she bothered with the book but he figured the woman had her reasons. She caught everyone's attention and Stiles stopped playing with the wall.

"The old man was a Phoenix. And Phoenix can't rely on a burned nest to protect them," Talia said as she approached. She pointed to the dome. "Their _eggs_ protect the nest because the nest protects their core as they regenerate. Everything inside the shell becomes part of the regeneration. It wears down the shell."

"Phoenix are _birds_ ," said Chris. "Small. He was old but he wasn't that small."

"Yeah, so?" Stiles cut in. "Werewolves walk around on two legs more often than four but they're still wolves too."

"It's just a different shape," said Talia. "And when it is done regenerating it will find another shape entirely."

"But it took the nemeton," said Stiles. "How do we get it back?"

"We don't."

Casey frowned at her. "I'm not actually okay with that," he said. He nodded toward his son. "He's already sick enough. If it's the barrier making him sick, we take it down."

"The Phoenix will bring the barrier down. Tomorrow. On the third day. Then, if there's anything left of the nemeton, we can try," said Talia. "But today? The dryad won't let us back inside and the regeneration can't be stopped. The old man told us. We can't stop a storm."

It was quiet. Everyone seemed to be processing. Casey was stuck on a refusal to process. "But we can't lose that tree. You said it. And Stiles has already shown it. Just look at him."

Everyone did look at Stiles when Casey pointed at him. There was no way they missed the black lines snaking down from his ears under his shirt collar, under his eyes and on his hands. He was usually a pale kid but now he had all the color of a corpse. "Call it poison, call it a connection to a damn tree, whatever. But he needs the tree."

"The whole valley needs the tree," added Chris. "The chaos only just started. It will get worse. But... Damned if I know what we're supposed to do about it."

Talia nodded. "Exactly."

"Everything in the shell becomes part of the regeneration," Stiles said. It was an apparently random repetition of Talia's information moments earlier but the look on Stiles' face said he was chasing a thought he hadn't gotten from her. Talia offered up a brief nod of verification and he moved right on to the next thought. "And I've got the energy from the tree. I'm stuck with it and if the tree dies then I go with it."

"It's just another poison," said Talia. "We're still working on how to get it out. And it looks like we've got another twenty-four hours. We know it's a Phoenix, of that I'm positive. So now we shift focus. We get Deaton and we work on you."

"I was right before. I give it back," said Stiles. "It's going to kill me anyway. If I give it back... The tree regenerates with the Phoenix. It's part of it. Tree lives, as long as the Phoenix does. Right?"

"Nope," said Casey. His son had lost his mind. "Don't even think about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," said Stiles. And he probably wasn't thinking about it because he had probably already made up his mind.

As Stiles ignored him in favor of seeking Talia's opinion on matters of the tree, Casey looked to Derek. The kid knew his son better than Casey ever would; if Stiles would listen to anyone it would be Derek. But he looked just as thrown as Casey felt. He looked to Talia then.

"You aren't seriously suggesting this would work," he said. "Hell, I don't give a damn if it would work. No."

It got Stiles' attention and he looked like he was waiting for the better idea. Any better idea. Casey grabbed at straws. "We'll get in the car and drive. Get far enough away the tree can't find you. And I can't believe I just said that but it makes as much sense as whatever you're suggesting."

"You already tried it," added Chris. "It didn't work. You just put yourself in a coma."

"Yeah, and what happens without the nemeton?" Stiles said in challenge. "So big deal, I'm in a _coma_. The alternative is every spark of energy attacking every sensitive person or thing like an unending full moon. No filter."

"We don't know what the nemeton does," argued Derek.

"Yes we do," said Stiles. "It's a tree. The tree’s the filter, not me. It doesn't have leaves anymore but it has roots, it is in the ground, connected to everything else. Every other tree. It filters. It helps you and Scott keep sane when the wolf tries to tear you apart. It helps your mom and Cora and Isaac. Even _Lydia_. She knows what it does, just ask her."

"We have until tomorrow, right?" Derek said. "Just think about it and we'll try to figure it out, get Deaton to help-"

"Deaton's still trying to put out the fires around town as it is," said Talia, suddenly on the _wrong_ side. Casey looked at her, surprised. She ignored him, her attention on Stiles. "If you think it will save the nemeton, don't wait for his help. Get it done."

"No!" Derek was the bigger threat to another wolf but he and Casey both argued her call. Stiles backed off, careful to stay out of their reach, as Talia's eyes glowed red.

"None of us know what we're dealing with. You are not the one marked by the nemeton itself. Stiles is. If that's what the power is for, that's how he should use it," said the alpha. "Do not interfere."

Even as she spoke, Stiles was already moving toward the shattered part of the shell guarded by the dryad. Derek tried to catch his arm and Stiles dodged it by catching him in a fierce hug that knocked the wind out of the werewolf. Casey Stilinski didn't need super senses to know when his son was scared. He saw it on Stiles' face, saw it in how he hung on to Derek, saw it in the rise and fall of his shoulders as he and Derek both seemed to have trouble breathing, like they had fallen in-sync just standing there.

"Stiles?" Casey asked, just trying to get his attention back. "Kiddo... Don't. Please don't."

Stiles pulled back from Derek after a moment, turned to look at Casey without letting him get close.

" _I_ brought the guy here," said Stiles. "He said he didn't think we were capable of what he saw me doing with the trees. I drew him to the nemeton just by goofing around. If I screwed it up then I need to fix it."

"Fine, then we'll look for-"

"No, Dad. This is it. I tried before, when I wasn't even awake last time. I don't remember any of it. I know this will fix it," Stiles said. He looked from Casey to Derek and back. "Don't get in the way this time. Just let me help."

He started moving toward the dryads then and Derek blocked his path, giving Casey the slightest bit of hope. Stiles looked sick but he looked... Charged up by the challenge. He held his arms at his sides but Casey knew well enough the kid was fast on the defense. Derek had taught him enough to be dangerous with that spark behind even basic self defense.

"You said I owe you," Stiles told him.

"Yeah, you owe me the exact opposite of this," said Derek. " _You're_ supposed to stick around."

"I can't do that if you don't," replied Stiles. "We need the nemeton for that."

Casey's hope faded as the pair stood and stared at each other; the longer they stayed quiet, the more certain he became that his son was as good as lost. And then Stiles brushed by Derek, who turned and walked with him.

Casey couldn't believe it. Why was everyone so calm? His kid was walking to do something that would likely kill him, and even Derek was just helping him do it. The sheriff panicked. He started after them and Chris moved to block his path. Talia caught his arm; she was so much stronger than Mel, he couldn't shrug her off. Her eyes flashed red and slowly faded out to normal.

"Just trust your son," Talia told him. "Be still."

The calm that hit Casey then was almost violent. It sounded like Talia in his head. The panic stopped. It wasn't natural but he responded to it and stood still. He watched as Stiles and Derek both walked past the dryad guards and into the shell around the nemeton. Stiles sat down on the ground beside the tree and Derek sat down behind him, back to back and quiet, just strength in numbers like their own little pack. Stiles set his hand on the root tangled and still solid next to him and dug his fingers into the dirt. He brought his knees up and leaned his legs to the side of the stump, comfortable contact and more than he had tried before. Then he stared at the tree. That was it. No show, no fireworks. Just unnatural quiet calm. Through the shell, Casey couldn't see the spark like he could the day before.

"It's not working," he said. "Nothing's happening."

"He has until dawn tomorrow, Koz," said Talia quietly. "He needs to pace himself."

Casey tried to accept that, tried to process what she meant, but his nerves were shot. He was shaking too much to even think about it. He wanted to help. He couldn't. It was all on a couple of kids.

The sheriff sat himself down on the ground, in damp dirt and crunchy leaves, to wait it out. A hand on his shoulder surprised him and he looked over to see Chris crouched beside him. The hunter gave him a smile that came out more like a grimace; if he was going for reassuring, he missed. Talia stood a little further off, her arms crossed as she glared in at the boys. She was different, harder than usual. She wasn’t happy. Casey realized then that none of them knew what to do. Except the kids.

 

***

 

"If you survive this, I'm killing you," Derek said. It was perfect timing because Stiles had been about to pass out in the quiet. He was focused and he was tired and drained. He had Derek at his back to lean on and share the miserable experience with and that made it seem less intimidating than it was. It was like a sauna near the tree, too much energy incubating what was left of the nest. It was stealing from the both of them but Derek hadn't left.

"When I survive this, we will definitely do something but killing won't be involved," Stiles said. He frowned at how weak his voice sounded, tried to ignore it. "A bed will be involved. I'm just not sure yet if sleeping will be on the agenda."

Derek seemed to accept that and Stiles looked back when he felt him shift a little. He met him in a kiss and felt a little better, a smile showing up briefly before he went back to worrying about the tree. It was impossible to know if it was doing any good but Stiles kept imagining the tiny saplings he had healed over the last month, watching them heal and grow on a loop in his mind. The energy he put into the tree stump charred into ash in front of him would hopefully pay off the same way.

Then the glitch in his thinking seemed to get bigger and he startled.

"Derek, man, you gotta get back out of here," he said, worried. "Whatever's in the shell is drawn on for the regeneration-"

"Yeah, I heard that part too," said Derek. He stopped leaning back on Stiles and it was at once a relief that Derek was going to go back out where it was safe and it somehow hurt at the same time. Stiles felt drained and disoriented without the support. But then Derek sat back down again, wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist and stretching his legs out alongside Stiles' as best as possible around the charred tree roots. He set his chin on Stiles' shoulder and Stiles felt instantly awake and recharged if not slightly panicked.

"This is _not_ leaving," said Stiles.

"I'm aware of that, thank you," said Derek. "This is _me_ , not letting _you_ leave. I walk away when you do. Maybe you promised to help the nemeton, but I didn't promise to let it keep you. We kept each other here before. We'll do it again."

He was quiet but Stiles had no trouble hearing him. And he had nothing to argue it either. He rested heavier against Derek then. The wolf could take it.

 

***


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm... just gonna leave this here... and then run like hell...
> 
> \-----

Melissa was awake early. It was still dark and the boys were quiet, probably still asleep. It would take an act of God to get them to wake up before six AM, even on a Monday. She didn’t have to work that day, hadn’t been cleared for it and very likely wouldn’t be with a bun in the oven now. It would be a week before she could get back to work, at least, and then who knew how long she could talk people into letting her avoid maternity leave. But at the same time, she looked forward to it. She didn’t want to over-work this one. Another kid was the last thing Melissa expected to experience ever again and after the past year of chaos she wanted to enjoy it. She reached for the coffee pot in the kitchen, glanced down at her normal sized tummy, and smiled as she decided to pass on the coffee. She was just digging into the refrigerator to check on the status of the orange juice when the front door started pounding.

The bat resting by the door in hand, Melissa cautiously approached. The top of the stairs suddenly crowded as Isaac and Scott both pounded down, just as alarmed as she was. Scott rushed right by her and opened the door. “Lydia? What’s-”

“Where’s Stiles? They’re not at the house, the house is empty, there’s no one there, you need to find Stiles-” the girl rambled out. She looked panicked and sick from it, hardly awake and like she hadn’t slept in two days. Melissa risked getting close enough to catch the girl by the shoulder to get her attention.

“Is this a banshee thing? Just a gut feeling or what are we talking here...”

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know! I don’t know how it works! But I went to his house first! No one’s there... that means something. It _always_ means something-”

Melissa looked from Lydia to Scott. She nodded the boys back up the stairs. “Go get dressed. I’ll go start the car.”

Her son and Isaac pounded back up the stairs just as loudly as they had run down and Melissa returned her attention to Lydia. Even as she grabbed her car keys and jacket she was trying to calm the girl, get her to breathe and talk it out rather than panic. They needed a better idea of where to find their missing crew and Lydia was their only clue that something was wrong at all. But she didn't know where to find them. That wasn't part of her skill set. She showed up at the scene of the crime but she couldn't predict where that would be. The poor girl had a lot on her plate, dealing with deaths at random and a pack of teenaged boys, at least one with a serious attitude problem. The last thing Lydia needed to be worrying about just then was obviously Stiles Stilinski, but Mel had figured out life didn't generally consult their schedules before piling on the chaos.

"It's okay. We'll figure it out," she said, trying to steer Lydia toward the car in the driveway. Lydia had parked her car on the street, one tire on the sidewalk in her haste to get to the door. At least she hadn't parked on the grass, Mel told herself.

Scott and Isaac showed up then. He dropped into the back seat and leaned forward slightly.

"We're in, let's go!" he said.

"Go _where_ , is the question," said Melissa. Scott shook his head, waved a hand to hurry her up.

"The nemeton. I called Chris and he said they're at the nemeton," he said. Melissa twisted in her seat to look back at her son. Then, muttering under her breath about stubborn teenagers, Melissa backed out of her driveway as soon as she could. She didn't want to think about what could send Stiles to the nemeton that would upset a banshee.

 

***

 

It felt like an hour went by in silence. The sunlight had started to peek up in pale streaks but hadn't yet touched the forest floor. Derek drifted in and out of consciousness, wakefulness a lot harder to maintain in the dark when wrapped around Stiles in hot, muggy air. They had shucked their shirts not long after they sat down so they were bare skin to bare skin from the waist up as they slouched against each other. He was used to the three long scars down Stiles' back, marks left over from the tree last winter, but now they burned at Derek's chest where they touched. He tolerated the oddity because we was more concerned with the rest of Stiles.

The itch of the stripes against his chest kept him mostly focused. So Derek noticed when it stopped. He started to say something but Stiles shifted against him, just enough to turn his face to rest against Derek's at his shoulder. He figured that was a positive sign and kept quiet.

The next thing that stopped was Stiles' breathing. It shallowed out and then... He just stopped.

"Hey..." Derek tried to rouse him but he stayed slumped in his arms, unresponsive. His heart kept beating, steady and clear to Derek's senses. It was eerie and Derek started to panic. Stiles wasn't dead, but he wasn't _breathing_.

He heard Stiles in his head, remembered the adamant demand that everyone let him fix it. He knew the risks and he knew it would work so he wanted everyone to let him try it. Derek had backed his play.

Now they were both in it and Derek was stuck; he couldn't fight for Stiles on this one, couldn't defend him or fix it. All he could do was trust Stiles' instincts would get them through it. So far they were right. He wasn't breathing, but he was still alive, and it was anyone's guess if it was helping the nemeton or not. Stiles believed it would. That made sense to Derek. He pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek and tightened his arms around him, feeling the _thump_ of the strange heartbeat he could barely hear.

 

***

 

Things went weird when the sun came up. Talia stared in through the foggy shell, watching her son like prey. Every move she tracked, just to make up for the fact that she couldn't hear them. At dawn Derek jumped like he had been startled, subtle but enough that Talia noticed. She saw him start to shake Stiles and then settle again. Something wasn't right. She doubted her call; letting the boys go through with it was stupid, they had already seen what the tree could do to Stiles. But the priority had to be the nemeton not the boy it had claimed.

"What was that?" Chris asked, quiet. He stood beside her now and Talia glanced over at him, not following his question. He was watching the boys, just like she was. The sheriff hadn't moved from where he sat, undoubtedly just as transfixed. Talia shook her head at Chris, hoping he would drop it.

"Maybe we should call them back," said Chris. "He's not going to make it-"

"He'll be fine," said Talia. "Stiles has things figured out more than he thinks. They'll both be fine."

"We've got twenty four hours," said Chris. He was insistent and didn't want to accept her coded dismissals, even on Casey Stilinski's behalf. "This is dangerous what they're doing. Derek can heal but Stiles can't."

Talia glared at him. "Thank you, I'm aware of that-"

"So get the kid back out here and we'll think of something else," he said. "You could... Well, you could bite him and he could try again."

"There are so many reasons why that won't do anyone any good," Talia replied quickly. They had Casey's attention now and the sheriff didn't need to be adding to his long list of worries. She split her attention between the two men. "The first being the nemeton. The bite could be rejected because he carries the connection to the tree. Then he could die..."

"Nope, not happening," said Casey. "We try his way. No one gets bit."

"And even if he did accept it, he holds too much of the nemeton's energy. He couldn't control both in the next twenty-four hours to beat the dawn of the third day," Talia added. "Whatever damage is done will have already been done."

"Hey! I said it's not gonna happen!" said Stiles' father. He pointed at the pair near the tree. "That's what he said will work. It's what we'll do."

Talia and Chris both went quiet. She crossed her arms and took a step back, too on edge to be near Casey.

The sound of boots and shoes and ragged breathing caught her attention away from the boys and she looked to see Scott and Isaac crashing through the woods, leading the way for Melissa and Lydia. Talia caught back an oath when she recognized the small redhead in panic-mode.

"Wait- is that Lydia? What's she doing here?" Casey asked, getting to his feet.

"She's a banshee," said Chris, as though that explained it. Talia knew that wouldn't go over well.

"Banshee predict death, they don't bring it with them," she said quickly. "As long as she doesn't-"

As the words were falling out of her mouth, Lydia shifted course in her run, away from them and toward the fae that guarded the break into the shell. Her scream was high-pitched and broken. "Stiles!"

"Oh shit-" Talia took off running to intercept, keep the girl out of the enclosure around the nemeton. There wouldn't be another child dead from this mistake. Chris stayed back to corral the sheriff with Scott and Isaac's help and Melissa and Talia both met up with Lydia. Talia caught her by the shoulders and made the teen look at her.

"You can't go in there!" she told the both of them.

"But Stiles-"

"I know. Derek has him. If there was a problem-"

Lydia shrugged free, teary eyed and angry. "He's dead. That's a pretty big problem."

Melissa gasped, hand over her mouth as Lydia crossed her arms and curled into herself. Talia shook her head.

"No one goes in," she said, her tone hard. "The dryad won't let you in. I won't risk it."

She pointed them toward the others, with the addition of "and don't tell Casey," though she didn't have much hope that would be listened to.

"But Stiles..." said Melissa. Talia nodded.

"The pup said this would work. He told us not to interfere. So we won't and we hope she's wrong," she said. Melissa chased after Lydia while Talia hung back, wanting to be certain they didn't rush the break in the dome again. It was getting weaker, easier to see through as the sun came up, so hopefully no one got the bright idea to start shooting their way in. They wouldn't risk another of the packs, and there was no way Talia would let Stiles' sacrifice be for nothing. It had to work. No one would interfere.

Scott stood between them and Casey, confused and worried. It only got worse when his mom grabbed him in a hug and didn't let go. Lydia stood near Chris, closed off and shocky. Casey looked to Talia for an explanation.

"What just happened?" he asked. He was tense and it notched higher as Talia tried to figure out what to say.

"Lydia thinks he died," she said. "But it isn't a science, she can predict things like this, which means they happen in the future... They can be prevented..."

"Then we get in there and we prevent it," said Casey. Talia blocked his path.

"What if that's what _causes_ it?" she said. The anger faded out of Casey. He wavered on his feet a little and Scott and Melissa reached out to catch him and get him to sit down. Melissa curled up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him and letting him still see into the dome. They stared in at Stiles and Derek at the nemeton, every one of them suddenly afraid to move.

 

***


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo Sorry that this took so long!!! I had it nearly finished but I wanted to get it *right* and before I knew it I'd gone a month without updating this fic. But it is now FINISHED and the remaining three chapters are going to be posted together!
> 
> (Plus there's a bonus epilogue fic-thing.)
> 
> \----

Sitting in the unnatural silence of the preserve was painful. It was just waiting. Sheriff Stilinski was good at waiting, it was actually a job requirement at times to sit and wait, either for crews to get actionable intel or attorneys to get paperwork or the county board to get off their ass on some vital word of permission or another. But that took days or weeks or months. This... This waiting to find out if his son was alive or dead, it took hours. It was worse than knowing.

The only thing remotely withstandable about the waiting was watching. At first Casey wasn't sure what he was seeing. He didn't believe it could be possible. He was too far away to know for certain, even if his month as a youngster had cleared up the way his tired old eyes saw the world. He hadn't had to use his glasses in over a month, since Stiles' birthday, but he still couldn't tell for certain that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Just beyond where Stiles and Derek slumped against the ash-covered tree stump it looked like tiny green leaves had peeked over the edge of the nemeton's remains. The bits of color were easily lost between the weird glare of the dome and the colors of the forest beyond it. But they moved a little, like there was a breeze inside the shell.

"Is that..." He didn't know what to even call it so Casey just pointed. Melissa lifted her head off his shoulder to look. She let out a cheerful yipe right next to his ear and he didn't even care; that was confirmation enough. "So it's working?" he asked. "They'll be okay?"

"It looks like maybe so," said Talia. She stood a few feet away with Chris, like a sentinel watching over everyone else who had crashed on the ground in misery to watch and wait with crappy front row seats to a slow execution. But maybe it wasn't one. It was working. Stiles was right. He _could_ do this stuff. Casey didn't realize he hadn't really been breathing the whole time until he took a full breath and actually relaxed. Melissa hugged him hard and pressed a smiling kiss to his cheek since he was staring at his kid.

And then, as he watched for signs of more good things, Derek seemed to pass out. He had been supporting the both of them and then suddenly he was down. They dropped fully against the weakened nemeton and didn't move.

 

***

 

Scott didn't know what to believe. Lydia said Stiles was dead. And she let out a squeak just before Derek fell over, had refused to speak at all ever since. So was Derek dead too? He was staring right at them, he knew exactly where Derek was. He would _know_ if they were dead. Maybe banshees weren't one hundred percent accurate on the death predictions. But it was just as frustrating sitting around worrying about Lydia's emotional state as it was worrying about their friends' metaphysical one.

Preferring to at least feel like he was doing something, Scott paced along the barrier, poking at it with his fingers, running his hands along it, pushing to see how far it would yield. He tried not to look at Stiles and Derek, instead paying attention to the tree growing out from the center of the nemeton. Since it first showed up just after sunrise, the trunk had already grown to five feet tall, with branches shoving up past that. Even as Scott watched, another branch climbed out and leaves slowly unfurled to cast shade on his friends. With every breath Scott took there was something new happening to the tree. New leaves, stronger branches, the trunk got a little wider and shoved down pieces of the charred stump crowding around it. It was late summer in Beacon Hills, everything dry and crisp in yellows and browns, but right there in the heart of the preserve it was like spring, green and pale and new, because of that tree. It was so weird.

A tangle of branches and leaves surrounded a higher branch. If Derek or Stiles were to just stand up and put their hand out, they could probably reach it. As the tree got steadily bigger, the tangle got bigger. It looked like another nest. When he pointed it out to the others, Talia reminded them of the phoenix, so it probably was a nest. And in it was probably a bird. And Scott was totally okay with cooking phoenix for breakfast if Stiles didn't wake up soon.

But he didn't, neither did Derek, and the tree just crept inch by inch bigger. Whenever Scott's patrol around the shell brought him near the dryad standing guard, they hissed at him, bared teeth and flashed big, bird-like eyes. He tried to avoid them. The last thing he wanted to deal with was another war with the trees.

Around noon there was finally movement. Real movement. Scott caught it out the corner of his eye and took his hand away from the shell to be sure he didn't distort the view inside. That's when he saw it happen again. The top of the tree shoved a single branch, like something had dropped on it. There were leaves in the way all over though so it took a moment to realize something was hopping in the branches, climbing higher. One more branch dipped and bounced and then leaves scattered.

A bird the size of an eagle flew out the top of the tree toward the sun. All tail feathers and long wings, it looked like a huge peacock, in bright colors that reflected the sunlight so much it hurt to look at. It shined in the sun like gold. The bird was red and yellow, green and blue, all colors in lines and splotches. A purple stripe ran from it's forehead between it's eyes to down its back to fan into the long tail. Scott had second thoughts about phoenix for breakfast. It didn't seem like such a great idea after all.

The bird swept down just before it hit the top of the shell and wound down around the tree a few times, like it was trying its wings or looking for a place to land. When it did land it crept toward Stiles and Derek on spindly legs, the colorful head bobbing as it carefully inspected them. The tall purple crown feathers lifted off the head, like it didn't expect or know what to do with the bodies half covered in ash from the nemeton by the new tree displacing the old stump. The phoenix was huge, crane-like legs stepping over and around the two in order to get a good look at the people it had killed. Scott shoved at the protective shell around the clearing, frustrated, but it didn't break and only bent in a little. He wanted to shout at the bird, chase it off, but he kept quiet. The phoenix poked a pointy red beak at Stiles' shoulder, nipped at Derek's face. Then, standing over them, in the ash of the tree they had tried to save, the phoenix started to preen it's feathers.

"That cocky little bastard-" came the unhappy growl from the sheriff not far away. Scott's mom and Chris had each grabbed a hold of him to keep Stiles' dad from making the bird mad. Scott took the hint too and backed off. Maybe the bird was territorial and he was too close.

Still, feathers fell in the ash around them and the bird carried on about their business without regard for the people outside the dome. It poked at Stiles and Derek a few more times, rubbed it's beak against the bark of the restored oak tree - _Stiles had done that, damnit! The stupid bird needed to leave the tree alone!_ \- and flapped it's wings without flying off. Just an asshole bird, being a jerk, because it knew they couldn't get in there to get at it. Scott scowled at the bird and went back to pacing the invisible wall.

Then the bird tilted its head back and opened its mouth like it was squawking at the sky. Everything stopped around the preserve. Scott's ears itched, like someone blew a dog whistle or was playing with the sonic emitters of the Argents'. The dryads guarding the egg-dome backed off like they were afraid of the sound, just like they had when Lydia screamed. Except with Lydia they had held their posts. With the bird, they just ran off, disappeared into a tree. Scott and the sheriff started running toward the break the second the dryads disappeared.

"Wait!" Talia barked at them, her attention on the phoenix. Scott only stopped because Stiles' dad did. They stared in at the bird, watched the brilliant colored wings raise and fan out like a shield over its head. It settled in front of Stiles and the wings covered him and Derek both. A sound broke the unnatural quiet of the preserve, like cracking ice. Scott and the sheriff were standing close to the barrier and Stilinski put an arm out in front of Scott to make him back away from it. As they watched, the dome over the clearing around the tree started to splinter and crack. Shards broke loose and fell, first little pieces and then great chunks. It all collapsed in on itself, shaking the new tree and breaking off leaves, covering the ground below it in white ash.

Everyone wasted precious seconds staring, first at the mess and then at each other, nobody certain they had really just seen that happen. Then the phoenix moved, standing up again, slowly lowering it's wings, pressing its beaky-face up against Stiles' and Derek's. The sheriff flinched as Lydia ran past them, but he hadn't put his arm down so Scott stayed where he was.

Covered in the white ash she had been running in, Lydia stopped a few feet from the phoenix. The bird was nearly as tall as she was. It lifted it's head and looked at her. Without the dome in the way, the bird's colors were impossibly brighter. When the light caught just right through the tree leaves above it, even the purple streak looked like a low burning flame. For the first time, Scott caught a good look at the bird's eyes. They were round and intelligent, very alert. At first glance they looked yellow but then he saw the sapphire ring around them, two toned and just as bright as the rest of the animal. The phoenix stared at Lydia, very still and ready to react. Then it squawked at her, just a small noise, less like a bird and more like a puppy wanting to play.

Lydia held her hand out as an excuse to step closer and the bird allowed it, craning its neck to reach toward her too. It stepped away from Stiles, over Derek and out of the shade of the tree toward Lydia. Then, without warning, it looked up at the sky. The phoenix let out a different sound, an actual bird sound, and jumped. Lydia ducked out of instinct away from the wings. Ash flew everywhere as the bird turned the jump into flight and headed off into the day.

The sheriff started moving then and he and Scott raced for the tree. By the time they got there, though, Lydia had already pounced on Stiles. She was crying again and Scott came up short, just beside the sheriff, because he wasn't sure what it meant when the banshee cried tears rather than screams. He listened for heartbeats and broke into a smile. Hearing the faint patterns he was looking for, he realized Stiles had raised his arms to hold Lydia in a return hug. Derek blinked up at the tree above their heads. The sheriff bent at the waist and crouched over his knees, relieved and exhausted at the same time. Scott had just spent way too many hours expecting his friends were dead and _restraint_ wasn't a word he bothered with much anyway.

"You jerks!" The announcement was the only warning he bothered giving them before he carefully jumped into the pile of bodies to join in the hugs himself. Lydia wasn't sharing Stiles so Scott hooked an arm around his friend's neck and mostly just squished Derek. It got him glared at but Scott wasn't fooled; he saw Derek smile.

 

***

 

The Tree was huge and healthy again. Talia stared up at it, feeling dizzy. She hadn't seen the nemeton so healthy since before her children were born. She hadn't seen it so narrow around the trunk since she was a child. But it was _alive_. The air around them practically vibrated with energy as the tree seemed to breathe. For the first time in thirty years. The nemeton was bringing itself back online after Stiles and Derek brought it back to life. It was something Talia never thought she would see, didn't think was possible.

The old tree wasn't the only nemeton in the area but it was the oldest and had, at one time, the most power. It was placed just right along the telluric currents, in a perfect pattern with the other nemeton sites miles and miles away, but also at a central point to the coverage of the currents on the area. They moved around the tree in a wide arc, encircling the valley below the preserve and dampening the waves that ran through it.

As Talia remembered it from before, the central nemeton and its sister trees turned down the noise for the sensitive supernaturals in the area, lessening the impact the currents could have on their already chaotic systems. It was like they could breathe easier, or like the jet-lag caused by the spark of what made them different had lifted. Beacon Hills was a beacon because the filter of the nemeton made it easier for them to live as themselves, the harsh chaotic struggle for control dampened by the work of the trees.

And the heart of that system was really beating again.

Talia couldn't quite find her voice. Chris checked on her and she caught his hand, refused to let go, but she was smiling. He smiled back as he stood at her shoulder. She leaned against him to stare up at the branches and their new leaves high up.

Below the spread of the long limbs, a half-dressed Stiles drove Melissa near batty because he refused to just leave the tree. Somewhere under the ash were his and Derek's shirts, so in the meantime they fussed around, covered in ash, the angry supernatural burns on Stiles' back and Derek's front taunting the nurse because they didn't heal and disappear. The teenagers stayed and cleared the old chunks of charred wood away from the base, played in ash for nearly an hour. What they found was that the new, young tree wasn't actually new. It was the innermost rings of the nemeton restored, the old layers burned away. The root system ducked and tangled and climbed its way back to the inner rings under the ash. It was the same tree, living off the same roots that already crawled through the ground.

Talia had to laugh and shake her head when she saw Chris realize what had happened. The Argent family had worked hard to kill that tree thirty years earlier, they had sacrificed in an effort to clear the valley of the supernatural elements that the beacon-tree called together. And then there was Chris, years later just as involved in restoring it. If he hadn't been turned into his high-school-aged self, it never would have happened, after all.

Fingers still twined with his, Talia stepped through the ash to lead Chris up to the tree. They followed a long, low limb up to the trunk and Talia ran her fingers over the bark where she could reach. Then, watching Chris, she placed their clasped hands up to the trunk, palms to the bark and fingers still caught on each other's.

"Do you feel it?" she asked, quiet. Chris looked from her face to their hands, brow furrowed. The energy of the area's currents passed through the tree, collected and filtered and feeding the nemeton just like air and sunlight.

"It's like a heartbeat," said Chris. "Little wonder they wanted to cut it down."

"It's a tree. It's alive," said Talia. "A living thing. We were supposed to protect it, before. We failed."

Chris took a deep breath and stared up at the branches above their heads.

"Then we'll do better this time," he said. Talia smiled at him, moved to tuck herself under his upraised arm and hug him.

She rested her cheek to his shoulder, settled in against him.

A few yards away, Stiles Stilinski looked on, dusting ash off his hands as his father swatted it off the rest of him. Melissa McCall was showing the same fussing attention to Derek and quietly lecturing the both of them about how to take care of actual injuries, that dirt was not good for burns, supernaturally caused or not. The pair didn't seem to be listening, their attention instead fixed on Chris and Talia near the trunk. Something like pride welled up in Talia and she shifted just enough to press a kiss to Chris' neck.

"I don't think it's our job anymore," she said. Chris glanced over at her. They were the old guard, the ones who had made the mistakes their children could learn from.

"Then we look out for those who inherited it," said Chris.

 

***

 


	23. Chapter 23

The crazy settled down around Beacon Hills by the end of the day. Well, most of it did anyway. Chris Argent was still a little worried about the state of his own sanity.

His mind was rather occupied by his new place in the world. His small family reduced to him and his daughter who had suddenly grown up. Their lives were so much different now. And with the matter of Talia Hale added in, Chris knew he was the biggest disappointment any family line had ever had to deal with. With Allison so diligently setting the example, he was working very hard to undo all the hard work of his forefathers. The Nemeton was back in action in the preserve just to prove it.

And now, here he was, three days after the latest insult to family pride, grocery shopping with the ultimate proof of that operation. His actual girlfriend, weeks pregnant, happened to be a werewolf. There was a lot of red meat in that shopping cart. Chris bemusedly realized his daughter was a lot smarter about dating werewolves than he was and very nearly laughed out loud. Instead he moved up behind Talia to press a kiss to her cheek. She was talking on the phone to her brother so it was a win-win: Chris got to cop a feel and annoy Peter Hale on Talia's behalf.

" _What did you decide to do about Stiles?_ " was the question he caught while his head was near the phone at her ear. Chris frowned and moved around to witness this conversation more directly. Talia had her _mildly angry_ face on and for once Chris was certain it wasn't his fault.

"There's nothing that needs done. The boy powered down," Talia said. "The nemeton was restored, took with it the excess Stiles couldn't handle. Derek says he doesn't even shock Scott anymore. He's just a boy."

"Well, _apprentice-Druid_ boy," added Chris. It was an important distinction.

"Yes. Not a conduit and storehouse for over a hundred years of natural energy," said Talia. She returned her attention to the phone. "So you, Peter, can stop worrying about my pup and leave his handling and care to your nephew."

She moved the cart another two feet before she stopped, her brother having somehow set her off again. Chris stopped with her, arched an eyebrow at her.

"Should I go get my gun?" he asked, amused. A very frustrated Talia listened to whatever her brother said on the phone and slowly nodded.

"Watch my things. I might need to kill him," she said. Then she stepped away from the cart and turned her attention to the cell phone again. "Little brother mine, do I need to remind you of the years I spent with the Argents? ...Really? Because you're working very hard at waking up the _alpha-bitch_ for someone so _supposedly_ innocent..."

Despite himself, Chris grinned and looked away, actually curious how serious Talia was in her subtle threats to torture her brother. It reminded him of Cora, so quick to pounce on Derek for the slightest infraction. The difference being that Derek accepted the harsh words with patience and indifference where Peter had too much pride. If he wanted to start World War III over a powered down Stiles, that was all on him. Talia wouldn't need much backup to put her brother down if he really got her going.

She took her time coming back and Chris had made it over to the vegetables without her. He thought he heard her voice though and looked over to find instead Cora Hale reading a smaller, publicly acceptable riot act to her brother. Draped in a green apron, Derek kept unloading fresh produce from a box onto a display under the mist-system, studiously ignoring Cora. Chris pretended to read the back of a box of croutons as he shamelessly eavesdropped on the one sided argument.

"But you said you weren't going to take this shift-" Cora complained at Derek. "You were going to give me a ride home."

"I can't take that shift and still work on the house. I had to change it around a little," said Derek.

"Fine, then can I have the keys so I can go home? You can call Stiles to pick you up..."

Derek scoffed. "I'm not calling Stiles when my shift ends at two o'clock in the morning to ask for a ride home."

"Then what am _I_ supposed to do?"

"I dunno. Call Mom?" It was probably equal parts the situation and Derek's smug attitude in the face of her plight that had Cora looking so murderous. Chris decided to intervene, even though he wasn't certain whose benefit he was coming to the aide of.

"She's currently on the phone with your uncle," Chris offered up. He wasn't far from them, just on the other side of a display of apples. "So I'm not sure you really want to call her at the moment."

They looked over at him, what passed for surprise on their stoic Hale faces. Chris took advantage of that to add, "So we can give you a ride home when your mom gets off the phone."

"You're both here?" Derek asked. Chris nodded slightly. It took a moment but Derek accepted it. He looked to Cora. "So catch a ride with them and save a phone call."

Frustrated, Cora glared at her brother. He shrugged it off and she retaliated, catching and unlacing the ties of his bright green apron that declared him an employee of the store. Derek stopped working to glare at her and fix his uniform and Cora grinned back at him, smug. Chris looked between them, weighing it out. Then he took a breath and figured, _why the hell not?_

"I wanted to talk to you two anyway," he said. Derek looked at him with open distrust, sensing an ambush. Chris shook his head. "I know why you took jobs over the summer. Both of you."

"Don't tell Mom," said Cora quickly. She looked like she might pout. Chris promised, but didn't mention that Talia already knew. That was between her and them.

"I was actually wanting to help. If I could. I worked construction before, summer jobs here and there. It's a big project for just one person, even for you," Chris said, looking to Derek. "And I want to be sure your mom is taken care of, just like you do."

"That's kind of funny if you think about it," said Derek, not sounding very amused. "An Argent wants to rebuild the Hale house."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure my sister would kill me for it," said Chris. He managed to keep the bitterness out of his tone better than Derek had. There was some guilt Chris would accept for his family, but he wasn't going to let that kind of a dig pass. Not from Derek. The kid backed down and Chris called it a draw. "Look, I'm not going to assume I know where your mom will be in six months. But at this point, all signs say we're family. That means something, whether you believe it or not. So yes, an Argent wants to re-build the Hale house, to help put up at least four walls and a roof with his own two hands."

They got caught in a staring match, Derek weighing his promise and Chris refusing to back down. The two had come to an uneasy truce over the past few months because Talia intervened whenever they didn’t, but that didn’t mean it was peaceful. It meant civility, formality, and alliance, but to call it friendship was a step too far. To call it family was just wishful thinking. But Derek was actually considering it.

"Fine," said Derek. "I could use the help. I'm usually there first thing in the morning. When there's not a crisis or something in the way."

Genuinely relieved, Chris smiled. "I'll be there in the morning."

"Be where in the morning?" Talia asked as she approached. She had managed to sneak up even on her children and Chris felt a little better about nearly being the blame for a surprise Talia had seen coming for months. He looked to Derek, trying to sort out which of them was supposed to lie first. Derek obviously hadn't spent enough time around Stiles because he had yet to master the on-the-spot obfuscation.

"Shooting range," said Chris. Talia raised an eyebrow at him and Chris shrugged. "Hey, he's old enough. He doesn't have to ask your permission to learn things."

" _Learn things,_ " echoed Talia, amused and not quite buying it. She waved it off and dropped her phone in her purse on the shopping cart. She looked to Derek then, completely off the track of their lie. "Good. You learn things. And then you shoot your uncle next time he asks about your boyfriend. You have my grateful permission. Just _full of holes._ " Talia mimed shooting things with a finger-gun and added in the _'pew-pew_ ' for sound effects. Derek looked momentarily murderous.

"He's just himself now. No more tree. What else does Peter want?" he asked, annoyed. Talia rolled her eyes.

"He's jealous. And he's annoying. So just shoot him and remind him he's got his own spark to deal with. He can leave everyone else's alone."

Chris considered really teaching Derek to shoot while they worked on the house. He caught Derek's eye. "Remind me to show you the library at my place. And we'll drag Stiles in for range time."

The offer surprised Derek and for a moment he just stared at Chris. Then he nodded. "Not a bad idea."

 

***

 

It was weird being back at school. Stiles felt... Normal. For the first time in months. He woke up at the base of the nemeton feeling that way, squished between Lydia and Derek and under Scott. It was like he was lighter, like moving was easier. He had been carrying around stuff that wasn't his since the beginning of the year and he hadn't realized how much he fought with it. The nemeton was a living thing, just one long possession he hadn't realized he was dealing with. A tree was thankfully much more benevolent than a Darach. But he still hadn't been _right_.

And as Friday at school settled in, it really felt like Friday. That one he couldn't even begin to explain. Just a pure joy at the prospect of being bored for two whole days. He was going to ignore his homework and play CoD and blow shit up _without_ frying out his console. It was going to be epic.

He just had to figure out how to get Derek to join in; he couldn't pull the ' _but I almost died!_ ' line on Derek since he'd not only almost died alongside Stiles but walked away with scars. In the energy drain from the nemeton, the scars along Stiles' back had burned stripes down Derek's chest. Matching lines had appeared on his _back_ , too, like the burn had gone straight through. Stiles hadn't just given back the energy the tree had given him, he had taken some from Derek. The man was an idiot for staying, for letting Stiles burn him, but... There was nobody else on the planet who would have done that for Stiles. He wouldn't have _let_ anybody other than Derek try it, either. They were weird like that. On second thought, Stiles figured he should probably help with the house since he kinda owed Derek for that one. He thought very seriously about ditching his last two classes to go help his werewolf boyfriend instead.

"You don't know how to build a house," Lydia said, killing the idea with a disapproving perfect eyebrow.

"I've done it before," said Stiles. That was a bit of a lie but she didn't have to-

"This is the real world, Stiles. Not the Sims. You can't _Motherlode_ the walls in place," said Lydia on a sigh. Stiles opened his mouth to argue on principle and then stopped. _How did Lydia know about Motherlode?_   She wasn't telling.

"I don't think Deaton really wants to come in on a Saturday just to teach me stuff. So it's literally Sims or CoD at this point. Sims is at least helpful," said Stiles. "I totally owe him this week."

"You do not," said Lydia. "He knew the risks-"

"I _burned_ him!"

"No, the nemeton did, so don't be stupid and guilty when it wasn't your fault," said Lydia. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"The whole past _month_ was my fault," he pointed out.

"Not entirely. Scott and Isaac caused it," she said. Scott looked up from the homework he hadn't done the night before.

"Hey!"

Lydia gave a look as Scott contented himself with glaring. Lydia went back to her lunch.

"My point is, you don't owe anybody anything. You're not some magic wizard, so why can't you just be Stiles? No lessons from Deaton or anything," she said.

"The Deaton stuff is _for me_. I _want_ to keep learning. I can be a magic wizard when I grow up," said Stiles. Scott looked over at him, eyebrow raised.

"You're eighteen."

"You know what I meant." Stiles shrugged. "Talia had an emissary before. Maybe I can do that."

Lydia pursed her lips and Scott looked mildly offended.

"What?" asked Stiles. He looked to his friend and shoved his shoulder. "You've got Deaton. And I can learn from Talia. Deaton can show me how to zap people again and Talia can help me figure out how to help the packs. What's wrong with that?"

" _Nine months_ of being _possessed_ by a _tree_? Maybe? Just a thought..." Scott said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I was able to be a part of things that whole time, though. I didn't have to sit in the car or babysit Peter. I could help. I'm not just walking away because I can't zap people again. I can get that back."

"I think you're crazy," said Lydia. "You should be running the other way. From all of us."

Stiles sighed and shook his head, let his attention wander from the overprotective friends around him. He hadn't missed that, he had liked _not_ being babysat and fussed over. He wasn't going back to those days if he didn't have to. A girl one table over was watching them, staring as she picked at her food. Stiles hadn't seen her before and she definitely stood out, all bright colored clothes from a second hand store, nothing matched, and her hair was cut in a weird style, half shaved under the neon pink ponytail with the purple stripes. She figured out she'd been caught and looked away quickly. Stiles sighed and returned his attention to his friends, just a little quieter since they had an audience.

"Maybe I will from you guys. But I happen to like my _Derek_ ," Stiles said, glancing between Lydia and Scott. "So, package deal. Get over it."

"You're _normal_ though, man. I don't get why - I mean, that's all I want," said Scott. "I mean, I'm used to it now... But I would go back to everything. So fast."

Lydia nodded her ready agreement. Stiles looked over at them, let his eyes flash the eerie blue edges.

"Not exactly what you call normal," he said. "Even if I'm the boring one of the bunch, I still flock with the freakshow."

Beyond Scott and Lydia, the girl with the pink hair smiled and grinned at her empty plate. Stiles thought maybe he was seeing things that weren't there when she looked up at him as she stood to walk away. Her eyes flashed sapphire and yellow behind her freckles.

"But you're going to have a little brother or sister, you could flock with them if you wanted. I mean, you'll probably _have to_ , so normal would make that whole thing easier," said Lydia. That caught Stiles' attention away from the odd new girl and he turned to Lydia.

"Huh?" he and Scott asked at the same time.

Lydia's attention pinged between them like a lost tennis ball. Then it went suspiciously far afield and she shrugged in her _bad-liar_ way. "I mean, it's a thing that could happen. It's a thing that happens when people hook up. If they're not careful. And I mean, your parents are related to the both of you, so screwing up is in the genetic code..."

Stiles met Scott's eye. Neither one of them bought the cover story she was selling. Stiles leaned elbows on the table and tried to get into Lydia's line of sight. "What do you know and how do you know it?"

Lydia had a very convenient mouthful of salad and tried to shrug the question off. When she went to take another bite, Scott caught her fork and wouldn't let her have it back. They both stared at her, intent and determined.

"You know something," said Stiles.

"We have ways of making you talk," added Scott. Lydia rolled her eyes at the theatrics... And then fell for them, hook, line and sinker.

"Allison said Talia's pregnant-"

"Holy crap! _Puppies_?" Stiles blurted before he could think. "Does Derek know? He didn't tell me-"

"I just said _Allison_ told me, not _Derek_ told me," said Lydia. She gave him a look that questioned his intelligence and simultaneously ordered that he get it together because he was being seen in public with her. "And I cannot believe you just said that about puppies. What even, Stiles..."

"Hey, she calls me her pup..." Stiles trailed off. It was like telling anyone his mom used to call him Sparky; it sounded less stupid coming from her than it did from him.

"That's great and all but Talia doesn't have anything to do with Stiles or me having a kid brother or sister," said Scott. He was suspicious and it served to remind Stiles that even though he had adopted the Hales as _his_ because of Derek, they weren't actually family, and Lydia wouldn't overlook that kind of detail.

"Come on, Lydia, just tell us. Were you serious or not?" he asked. Lydia looked up at him without actually looking up, hiding behind her hair like a guilty person.

"Holy. Crap," said Stiles slowly. He tried to let it sink in. He was going to be a big brother?

"Are you serious?" asked Scott. "Is this- did somebody tell you or is this a ban-"

"Allison told me..." Lydia said quickly. "I just figured you knew..."

"Wait. You're saying my mom is pregnant?" Scott seemed to be missing the point, somehow not understanding the mechanics being discussed. "That's not even possible. No way."

Stiles smacked him in the shoulder. "Dude. You watched me regrow a dead tree. Yet you have a hard time believing our parents made a _baby_?"

"Wait. What?" Scott asked again.

Lydia sighed and huffed her bangs out if her face. "Yes, Scott. Your mom is pregnant. Because she and Sheriff Stilinski were _idiots_ when they were shrunk. But _don't_ tell anyone I told you, okay?"

Stiles and Scott looked at each other, their expressions perfectly matched stupid smiles. Stiles held out a hand and they did their secret handshake.

"Welcome to the family, bro," he said.

"Hey... It's my mom, so my family first," said Scott. “I should be welcoming _you_.”

"Yeah, but my dad..." The conversation disappeared quickly into territory Stiles never wanted to think about again and he cringed and waved it off. "Nevermind."

"Whatever. We're gonna be big brothers, man! Like, really, brothers! Like, an actual tiny human running around calling us _bro_..." Scott cheered and tackled Stiles in a hug, nearly knocking over the chair. Lydia swatted at them for causing a scene and Scott settled down. A little. Stiles was mentally bouncing, which meant the rest of him was fidgeting. He thwapped Scott's arm again.

“Dude. I really want a baby sister," he said, thinking out loud. "Like, we can get her all the girly stuff and then teach her to make rocket launchers and stuff out of Legos... to, like, shoot it at people because nobody expects a flying Barbie head... And don't even tell me the girly stuff is lame-"

Scott seemed mostly sold on it and shook his head. "No way, man! Girly stuff is awesome, they come in comic book stuff now! I met this girl Kira last week and she's awesome, I mean like...”

Stiles couldn't believe it. He rolled his eyes and held his arms out. “Bro, we were just talking about a _baby sister,_ can we _not_ do the girlfriend talk for at least, like, a five minute grace period?”

"What! I was agreeing with you..."

 

***


	24. Chapter 24

The McCall's garage was big and empty, even when Melissa parked the car in it. So it was getting a make-over. It was the first of multiple projects on the house. (Second, if they counted the roof as a project and not a repair.) The garage and the attic both were being converted into bedrooms. There were kids that had to be accommodated as two families merged. Stiles claimed the attic room even before the repairs had been made, and Scott was taking the garage room to put himself at the front of the house. That left Isaac in Scott's room and the new baby would get Isaac's, because she didn't exactly need the ensuite bathroom yet. Scott and Stiles were going to have to fight for the bathroom on the ground floor and Derek was so glad he would be nowhere near the daily battle or the permanent mess that would result.

The loft had taken a hit when Stiles lived there to hide from his mistake with the parents the month before. It was nice not having to worry about Peter's bitching at the extra clothes and towels but Derek had to admit the place was quieter and he hadn't sorted out how he felt about that. He had gotten used to it, now he missed it. To make up for it, he helped Stiles and Scott convert the garage as a weekend project. Drywall and carpet and one paint job later and it was almost a room.

The sheriff and Isaac spent that same weekend hauling boxes out of the attic to be reorganized and sorted through. The living room was a mess of dust and boxes and moldy paper stuffing. Melissa had employed Lydia and Allison for their opinions on what was worth keeping or not. A box of Scott's old baby things had been found and he claimed it so they had to work around it in the garage. Stiles kept poking at it instead of finish the carpet; he was a big fan of the baby on the way. Derek was nowhere near as enthusiastic. Babies scream, they throw temper tantrums, they bite and that's getting nowhere near the problems associated with small things requiring diaper changes.

"That's why we're the big brothers," said Scott, shrugging off the logic. He pounded down the last corner of carpet under the strip of metal around the garage steps into the house. Derek arched an eyebrow and Stiles sighed.

"That's when we _give them back_ to their mom and dad and it's not our problem. Diaper duty is not on the list of brotherly responsibilities," he explained. Derek gave him a dark smile; there were still plenty of things about the world that even Stiles Stilinski didn't know.

"It's not on the list but it's in the fine print on the rent agreement when you live in _their_ house," he said.

"It's not her house, it's Mom's house," said Scott. Stiles gave it more careful consideration, slightly alarmed by the realization. He looked to Scott, uncertain. The young alpha reconsidered. "It's gonna be _her_ house?"

Derek nodded. "Cora's stuff was always everywhere. Every tiny place she could put something, she did. And possession is nine-tenths of the law. It's like preprogrammed in their tiny brains."

"Yeah, but Cora's smart," said Stiles. His brow furrowed and he realized he had just accidentally jinxed his baby sister's intelligence by drawing such early comparisons. "Nevermind."

More or less babied-out already, Derek shook his head. "Just be glad you'll be at school for the terrible twos. They don't get any better by three."

"Yeah, but at four they're kinda cute," said Stiles, grasping at straws. Rather than risk killing any more of his joy, Derek shrugged. He remembered Cora at four pretty well; the hellion just got _taller_ , that was all. Stiles and Scott would figure that out on their own.

The conversation was interrupted by Allison then. She stood in the doorway near Scott, arms crossed idly as she listened in. It wasn't that she had snuck up on a couple of werewolves, but she had gotten pretty close.

"Your mom wants you to go pick up dinner," she announced once she had their attention. Stiles looked from Scott to Derek and back to Allison.

"Which mom?" he asked. Allison rolled her eyes and nodded toward Scott.

"Melissa-mom," she replied. Stiles nodded.

"Got it."

The pizzas were the default food for feeding the group of them, and already paid for, so nobody had any intent to argue. Stiles followed after Scott, paused as he passed Derek. He knew Derek's moods and gave him a look. "You coming with us?"

Derek shook his head. "I'll go see if your dad and Isaac need any help," he said. He offered up a bemused grin to show he was fine. Stiles made a noncommittal noise like it was Derek's call, since it was. He hung out just long enough for a quick kiss and a smack on the ass before he took off after Scott. Derek half-heartedly tagged him on the back of the head for it, a smile on his face anyway. Allison cleared the path for them but she still hung out at the door. She seemed to be waiting for Derek.

"What's up?" he asked. That was apparently an invitation and Allison dropped down onto the step and into the room, swinging the door closed behind her. Her arms crossed again and Derek figured she had something on her mind.

"As far as I'm concerned, we're family," she said. No preamble, no context, but yep, definitely something on her mind. Derek crossed his arms to wait her out as she went on. "Our parents have been dating for six months, whether they wanted to admit it or not. All the family-stuff we've had to do together? And now there's a baby for it. So whether they stay together or not? _Somebody's_ half an Argent and half Hale. It kind of tangles our family trees right up next to each other."

Derek rolled his eyes. "I just don't like kids. It's got nothing to do with your dad," he said. Lying through his teeth. If the expression on her face was anything to judge by, Allison didn't buy it. Frustrated, Derek looked away. It wasn't like he hadn't _tried_. He knew he dwelled on a lot of stuff when it came to the Argents. They were one big group in his head, even if he could deal with Allison and Chris individually for the most part. Individually, he was mostly okay with them, but when he was allowed to take a step back, he remembered the Argents who burned his world to the ground as a kid. Getting the two versions of the Argents to line up wasn’t as easy as people wanted him to make it. But Derek did try.

"There's stuff that goes too far back for me to just call it good," he said. Stuff like Kate, maybe, and definitely stuff like the busted camaro window, or Stiles’ busted face after a lacrosse game...

"My mom is dead. The only reason I'm okay with my dad even seeing someone is because he's all I've got left, and your mom made him smile again," Allison replied. "We all lost something. That doesn’t make any of it alright, though. So we can _cry about it_ or build something up new. Maybe an accidental family will help more than you think."

After the last few months of his mom tricking and cajoling and ordering him to participate in peace-efforts that consisted of forced time spent with Chris and Allison Argent, Derek knew how Allison worked. She and Cora got along fine, Cora actually made Allison seem soft and childish in comparison. But Derek knew well enough that Allison wasn't either one. She was smart and she had grown up fast, just like he had, when the rug got yanked out from under their feet. So when she thought someone was being an idiot who knew better, she called them on it. And Derek recognized the tone this time around, too.

And he knew she was right, on some level; he was being an idiot. He had fought his mom on Chris since the start. His _mom_. The one who wasn't dead anymore because she never had been. She lost her pack, she lost her family, everything, but she hadn't died. Derek was lucky in that. He wasn't an orphan, he had his family. Why he spent so much effort fighting what made his mom happy, he could never know. Yeah, he had reasons, but the part where his mom was still alive and healthy negated a few of them. Derek didn't make sense, not even to his own mind. But he was stubborn, and that was genetically confirmed.

"I _still_ don't like kids," he said finally.

"You're dating one," said Allison, rolling her eyes.

"You're two years older than Scott. You don't have a lot of room to talk," Derek reminded her. Allison grinned, smug.

"We broke up," she replied. Derek smiled back.

"Stiles isn't a _kid_ , so far we're still good. Some mature better than others," he said. He seemed to prove Allison's point for her and she reached back for the door to leave.

"Just like babies," she said. "So be nice to our baby sister when she gets here."

Derek frowned and shook his head. "No way. I don't want another sister."

Allison shrugged at him. "Fifty-fifty shot."

"Fine, I don't care what it is," said Derek as he followed her into the house. "I'm not pulling diaper duty this time around."

That was never the way it worked though, and he knew it. The shitty thing about family was there was always somebody's mess to clean up, and never any good way to get around doing it. And that always went double for pack. It just figured the lines had to blur between the Hales and the Argents, so badly that they somehow had the McCalls and Stilinskis in the mix.

 

***

 

When the boys got back with the food, the attic was empty. That was good enough for Casey; Stiles could work on clearing the cobwebs and painting it when he wanted. The roof was fixed on the inside and the walls were sound. They would figure out stairs and furniture once the space looked more like it was ready for habitation by animals with fewer than eight legs. Casey was still betting on Stiles changing his mind and he and Melissa had discussed moving the boys to his house. They were just going to rent it out, either way. But that was the back up plan; the boys were too excited about the baby to send them away anywhere.

Because there was definitely a baby on the way and when things settled down there would be a wedding to more officially show the world the two families had taken on a more united front. Kids changed things pretty effectively without even having to try, Casey realized. He was going to be a father of two suddenly, with the bonus of being the step-dad, _and_ a foster parent. All it took was that second kid to make him stop chickening out and Mel to say _yes_. She would have asked him first if he waited much longer, and Stiles had already asked the both of them a dozen times. Kids could get stuff done.

The empty attic meant the kitchen was covered in grime and dusty boxes though. Melissa fussed at the lack of forethought but Casey reasoned that it was pizza. Pizza went anywhere. So they grabbed paper plates and set up a picnic in the back yard. By then Talia and Chris had shown up, fresh from picking up Cora from her shift scooping ice cream, and the kitchen would have been well past crowded anyway. The girls grabbed blankets for the lawn but Melissa was perfectly happy with her porch chairs.

The division went as usual, with the adults on the porch in chairs and the kids rough housing on the lawn. Derek Hale was somewhere in between but he and Stiles stuck together, so he sat on a blanket between Stiles and Allison, listening to Lydia talk about her baby boxes in her grandma’s house’s attic crawlspace. Scott and Isaac wolfed down dinner before Cora challenged them to a game of horse off the side yard. It turned into keep-away-with-a-basketball-hoop very quickly, the kids' competitive natures firing up, much to Isaac's resignation. Soon Stiles was torn between his plate and the game and ended up taking his shots with a slice of pizza flopping out of his mouth like a weird beak.

From the porch, beside Melissa, Casey watched the game more than paid attention to his food. That was his kid, _being_ a kid. Bouncing and moving and incidentally getting trounced at basketball by a trio of werewolves. It turned into Stiles and Cora versus Scott and Isaac, unofficial team lines drawn from no more than exchanged glances. Scott and Cora squared off, the young alpha werewolf smiling as he psyched Cora with a feint and rested with his hands on his bent knees, ready to do it again.

In the distraction, Stiles wrestled the ball from Isaac, then he and the basketball traveled a step as he launched up at Scott, used his friend's leg as a step up got leverage as he tried to dunk the ball. Somehow Stiles still missed the score from the boost up and flailed as Scott stood up and the support disappeared before Stiles was ready to jump. He went sprawling past Scott's shoulder and rolled on the grass to lie flat on his back. Casey started to stand up to check on his son, but he hesitated.

"I'm good!" Stiles called out, winded but otherwise still whole. He waved his arms to prove it.

"Derek, come kiss it better so he'll get off his ass," Cora ordered, probably just as serious as she was annoyed. A glance at the other side of the lawn showed that Derek had gotten to his feet and was moving but he wasn't following orders. From the ground, Stiles still held up his arms but it was to make sure Cora saw him flipping her off. He got up on his own and Scott tossed him the ball for a do-over. Stiles shot it at Derek instead.

"Your sister sucks as backup," he said. It was his announcement that Derek was playing. Derek didn't argue and was soon embroiled in the game. Stiles held his own after that, no more fancy footwork he wasn't coordinated enough to pull off as they stuck to good old-fashioned teamwork.

It took Casey a few minutes to realize he watched the kids through the vines of the wisteria tree crawling up the old lattice work off the front of the porch. It was well out of season and trimmed to climb where it was trained, but little white and purple blooms peeked out from behind green leaves. Still going strong.

 

 

**The End**


End file.
